; 


; 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OE  CALIFORNIA 

RIVERSIDE 


THE  WORKS  OF 
HENRIK  IBSEN 


THE  VIKING  EDITION 

VOLUME 

I 


pT 


Ctipi/rit/hf  Jiff,  by  Jfiis  Gudo 


HENRIK  IBSEN 


LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT 

THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG 

LOVE'S  COMEDY 

WITH  INTRODUCTIONS  BY 

WILLIAM    ARCHER 

AND 

C.   H.   HERFORD,    Litt.D.,   M.A. 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1911 


Copyright,  1911,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

GENERAL  PREFACE vii 

INTRODUCTION  TO  "  LADY  INGER  OF  OSTrIt"       .       .  3 

"lady  INGER  OF  OSTRAt" 19 

Translated  by  Charles  Archer 

INTRODUCTION  TO  "THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  "     .       .  191 

author's  PREFACE  TO  "THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  "  .  196 

"  THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  " 205 

Translated  by  William  Archer  and  Mary  Morrison 

INTRODUCTION  TO  "love's  comedy" 293 


<( 


love's  comedy" 305 

Translated  by  C.  H.  Herford 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

HENRiK  IBSEN Froutispiece 

FACING   PAGE 

THE    PHARMACY    AT  GRIMSTAD,  WHERE    IBSEN   WAS 

CLERK    FROM    1845    TO    1848 150 

HENRIK    IBSEN    AT   THE   AGE   OF   THIRTY    ....       296 


GENERAL  PREFACE 

The  eleven  volumes  of  this  edition  contain  all,  save 
one,  of  the  dramas  which  Henrik  Ibsen  himself  admitted 
to  the  canon  of  his  works.  The  one  exception  is  his 
earliest,  and  very  immature,  tragedy,  Catilina,  first  pub- 
lished in  1850,  and  republished  in  1875.  This  play  is 
interesting  in  the  light  reflected  from  the  poet's  later 
achievements,  but  has  little  or  no  inherent  value.  A 
great  part  of  its  interest  lies  in  the  very  crudities  of  its 
style,  which  it  would  be  a  thankless  task  to  reproduce 
in  translation.  Moreover,  the  poet  impaired  even  its 
biographical  value  by  largely  rewriting  it  before  its  re- 
publication. He  did  not  make  it,  or  attempt  to  make  it, 
a  better  play,  but  he  in  some  measure  corrected  its  juve- 
nility of  expression.  Which  version,  then,  should  a  trans- 
lator choose  ?  To  go  back  to  the  original  would  seem  a 
deliberate  disregard  of  the  poet's  wishes;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  retouched  version  is  clearly  of  far  in- 
ferior interest.  It  seemed  advisable,  therefore,  to  leave 
the  play  alone,  so  far  as  this  edition  was  concerned.  Still 
more  clearly  did  it  appear  unnecessary  to  include  the 
early  plays  which  were  never  admitted  to  any  edition 
prepared  by  the  poet  himself.  They  are  four  in  number. 
The  Warrior's  Barroio  and  Olaf  Liliekrans  were  included 
in  a  supplementary  volume  of  the  Norwegian  collected 
edition,  issued  in  1902,  when  Ibsen's  life-work  was  over. 

ix 


X  GENERAL  PREFACE 

The  other  two — The  Ptarmigan  ofJustedal  and  St.  John*s 
Night — were  not  published  till  1909,  when  they  were 
included,  with  an  operatic  fragment  of  small  account,  in 
the  first  volume  of  the  poet's  Literary  Remains. 

With  two  exceptions,  the  plays  appear  in  their  chron- 
ological order.  The  exceptions  are  Love's  Comedy,  which 
ought  by  rights  to  come  between  Tlie  Vikings  and  The 
Pretenders,  and  Emperor  and  Galilean,  which  ought  to 
follow  The  League  of  Youth  instead  of  preceding  it.  The 
reasons  of  convenience  which  prompted  these  departures 
from  the  exact  order  are  pretty  obvious.  It  seemed  highly 
desirable  to  bring  the  two  Saga  plays,  if  I  may  so  call 
them,  into  one  volume;  while  as  for  Emperor  and  Galilean 
it  could  not  have  been  placed  between  The  League  of 
Youth  and  Pillars  of  Society  save  by  separating  its  two 
parts,  and  assigning  Coesars  Apostasy  to  Volume  V., 
The  Emperor  Julian  to  Volume  VI. 

For  the  translations  of  all  the  plays  in  this  edition,  ex- 
cept Love's  Comedy  and  Brand,  I  am  ultimately  responsi- 
ble, in  the  sense  that  I  have  exercised  an  unrestricted 
right  of  revision.  This  means,  of  course,  that,  in  plays 
originally  translated  by  others,  the  merits  of  the  English 
version  belong  for  the  most  part  to  the  original  trans- 
lator, while  the  faults  may  have  been  introduced,  and 
must  have  been  sanctioned,  by  me.  The  revision,  whether 
fortunate  or  otherwise,  has  in  all  cases  been  very  thor- 
ough. 

In  their  unrevised  form,  these  translations  have  met 
with  a  good  deal  of  praise  and  with  some  blame.  I  trust 
that  the  revision  has  rendered  them  more  praiseworthy, 
but  I  can  scarcely  hope  that  it  has  met  all  the  objections 


GENERAL  PREFACE  xi 

of  those  critics  who  have  found  them  blameworthy. 
For,  in  some  cases  at  any  rate,  these  objections  proceeded 
from  theories  of  the  translator's  function  widely  diver- 
gent from  my  own — theories  of  which  nothing,  probably, 
could  disabuse  the  critic's  mind,  save  a  little  experience 
of  the  difficulties  of  translating  (as  distinct  from  adapt- 
ing) dramatic  prose.  Ibsen  is  at  once  extremely  easy, 
and  extremely  difficult  to  translate.  It  is  extremely  easy, 
in  his  prose  plays,  to  realise  his  meaning;  it  is  often  ex- 
tremely difficult  to  convey  it  in  natural,  colloquial,  and 
yet  not  too  colloquial,  English.  He  is  especially  fond  of 
laying  barbed-wire  entanglements  for  the  translator's 
feet,  in  the  shape  of  recurrent  phrases  for  which  it  is  ab- 
solutely impossible  to  find  an  equivalent  that  will  fit  in 
all  the  different  contexts.  But  this  is  only  one  of  many 
classes  of  obstacles  which  encountered  us  on  almost  every 
page.  I  think,  indeed,  that  my  collaborators  and  I  may 
take  it  as  no  small  compliment  that  some  of  our  critics 
have  apparently  not  realised  the  difficulties  of  our  task, 
or  divined  the  laborious  hours  which  have  often  gone  to 
the  turning  of  a  single  phrase.  And,  in  not  a  few  cases, 
the  difficulties  have  proved  sheer  impossibilities.  I  will 
cite  only  one  instance.  Writing  of  TJie  Master  Builder, 
a  very  competent,  and  indeed  generous,  critic  finds  in  it 
"a  curious  example  of  perhaps  inevitable  inadequacy. 
.  .  .  'Duty!  Duty!  Duty!'  Hilda  once  exqlaims  in 
a  scornful  outburst.  'What  a  short,  sharp,  stinging 
word!'  The  epithets  do  not  seem  specially  apt.  But 
in  the  original  she  cries  out  'Pligt!  Pligt!  Pligt!'  and 
the  very  word  stings  and  snaps."  I  submit  that  in  this 
criticism  there  is  one  superfluous  word — to  wit,  the  "per- 


xii  GENERAL  PREFACE 

haps"  which  qualifies  "inevitable."  For  the  term  used 
by  Hilda,  and  for  the  idea  in  her  mind,  there  is  only  one 
possible  English  equivalent:  "Duty."  The  actress  can 
speak  it  so  as  more  or  less  to  justify  Hilda's  feeling  tow- 
ards it;  and,  for  the  rest,  the  audience  must  "piece  out 
our  imperfections  Avith  their  thoughts"  and  assume  that 
the  Norwegian  word  has  rather  more  of  a  sting  in  its 
sound.  It  might  be  possible,  no  doubt,  to  adapt  Hilda's 
phrase  to  the  English  word,  and  say,  "It  sounds  like  the 
swish  of  a  whip-lash,"  or  something  to  that  effect.  But 
this  is  a  sort  of  freedom  which,  rightly  or  wrongly,  I  hold 
inadmissible.  Once  grant  the  right  of  adaptation,  even 
in  small  particulars,  and  it  would  be  impossible  to  say 
where  it  should  stop.  The  versions  here  presented  (of 
the  prose  plays,  at  any  rate)  are  translations,  not  para- 
phrases. If  we  have  ever  dropped  into  paraphrase,  it  is 
a  dereliction  of  principle;  and  I  do  not  remember  an 
instance.  For  stage  purposes,  no  doubt,  a  little  paring 
of  rough  edges  is  here  and  there  allowable;  but  even 
that,  I  think,  should  seldom  go  beyond  the  omission  of 
lines  which  manifestly  lose  their  force  in  translation,  or 
are  incomprehensible  without  a  footnote. 

In  the  Introductions  to  previous  editions,  I  have  al- 
ways confined  myself  to  the  statement  of  biographical 
and  historic  facts,  holding  criticism  no  part  of  my  busi- 
ness. Now  that  Henrik  Ibsen  has  passed  away,  and  his 
works  have  taken  a  practically  uncontested  place  in 
world-literature,  this  reticence  seemed  no  longer  im- 
posed upon  me.  I  have  consequently  made  a  few  critical 
remarks  on  each  play,  chiefly  directed  towards  tracing 
the  course  of  the  poet's  technical  development.     Never- 


GENERAL  PREFACE  xiii 

theless,  the  Introductions  are  still  mainly  biographical, 
and  full  advantage  has  been  taken  of  the  stores  of  new 
information  contained  in  Ibsen's  Letters,  and  in  the  books 
and  articles  about  him  that  have  appeared  since  his 
death.  I  have  prefixed  to  Lady  Inger  of  Ostr&t  a  sketch 
of  the  poet's  life  down  to  the  date  of  that  play;  so  that 
the  Introductions,  read  in  sequence,  will  be  found  to  form 
a  pretty  full  record  of  a  career  which,  save  for  frequent 
changes  of  domicile,  and  the  issuing  of  play  after  plav, 
was  singularly  uneventful. 

The  Introductions  to  Love's  Comedy  and  Brand,  as  well 
as  the  translations,  are  entirely  the  work  of  Professor 
Herford. 

A  point  of  typography  perhaps  deserves  remark.  The 
Norwegian  (and  German)  method  of  indicating  empha- 
sis by  spacing  the  letters  of  a  word,  thus,  has  been 
adopted  in  this  edition.  It  is  preferable  for  various  rea- 
sons to  the  use  of  italics.  In  dramatic  work,  for  one 
thing,  emphases  have  sometimes  to  be  indicated  so  fre- 
quently that  the  peppering  of  the  page  with  italics  would 
produce  a  very  ugly  effect.  But  a  more  important  point 
is  this:  the  italic  fount  suggests  a  stronger  emphasis  than 
the  author,  as  a  rule,  intends.  The  spacing  of  a  word, 
especially  if  it  be  short,  will  often  escape  the  eye  which 
does  not  look  very  closely;  and  this  is  as  it  should  be. 
Spacing,  as  Ibsen  employs  it,  does  not  generally  indicate 
any  obtrusive  stress,  but  is  merely  a  guide  to  the  reader 
in  case  a  doubt  should  arise  in  his  mind  as  to  which  of 
two  words  is  intended  to  be  the  more  emphatic.  When 
such  a  doubt  occurs,  the  reader,  by  looking  closely  at  the 
text,  will  often  find  in  the  spacing  an  indication  which 


xiv  GENERAL  PREFACE 

may  at  first  have  escaped  him.  In  almost  all  cases,  a 
spaced  word  in  the  translation  represents  a  spaced  word 
in  the  original.  I  have  very  seldom  used  spacing  to  in- 
dicate an  emphasis  peculiar  to  the  English  phraseology. 
The  system  was  first  introduced  in  1897,  in  the  transla- 
tion of  John  Gabriel  Borkman.  It  has  no  longer  even  the 
disadvantage  of  unfamiliarity,  since  it  has  been  adopted 
by  Mr.  Bernard  Shaw  in  his  printed  plays,  and,  I  believe, 
by  other  dramatists. 

Just  thirty  years^  have  passed  since  I  first  put  pen  to 
paper  in  a  translation  of  Ibsen.  In  October,  1877,  Pil- 
lars of  Society  reached  me  hot  from  the  press;  and,  hav- 
ing devoured  it,  I  dashed  off  a  translation  of  it  in  less 
than  a  week.  It  has  since  cost  me  five  or  six  times  as 
much  work  in  revision  as  it  originallv  did  in  transla- 
tion.  The  manuscript  was  punctually  returned  to  me  by 
more  than  one  publisher;  and  something  like  ten  years 
elapsed  before  it  slowly  dawned  on  me  that  the  translat- 
ing and  editing  of  Ibsen's  works  was  to  be  one  of  the 
chief  labours,  as  it  has  certainly  been  one  of  the  greatest 
privileges,  of  my  life.  Since  1887  or  thereabouts,  not 
many  months  have  passed  in  which  a  considerable  por- 
tion of  my  time  has  not  been  devoted  to  acting,  in  one 
form  or  another,  as  intermediary  between  Ibsen  and  the 
English-speaking  public.  The  larger  part  of  the  work, 
in  actual  bulk,  I  have  myself  done;  but  I  have  had  in- 
valuable aid  from  many  quarters,  and  not  merely  from 
those  fellow-workers  who  are  named  in  the  following 
pages  as  the  original  translators  of  certain  of  the  plays. 

'  Written  in  1907. 


GENERAL  PREFACE  xv 

These  "helpers  and  servers,"  as  Solness  would  say,  are 
too  many  to  be  individually  mentioned;  but  to  all  of 
them,  and  chiefly  to  one  who  has  devoted  to  the  service 
of  Ibsen  a  good  deal  of  the  hard-won  leisure  of  Indian 
official  life,  I  hereby  convey  my  heartfelt  thanks. 

The  task  is  now  ended.  Though  it  has  involved  not 
a  httle  sheer  drudgery,  it  has,  on  the  whole,  been  of  ab- 
sorbing interest.  And  I  should  have  been  ungrateful 
indeed  had  I  shrunk  from  drudgery  in  the  cause  of  an 
author  who  had  meant  so  much  to  me.  I  have  experienced 
no  other  literary  emotion  at  all  comparable  to  the  eager- 
ness with  which,  ever  since  1877,  I  awaited  each  new 
play  of  Ibsen's,  or  the  excitement  with  which  I  tore  off 
the  wrapper  of  the  postal  packets  in  which  the  little 
paper-covered  books  arrived  from  Copenhagen.  People 
who  are  old  enough  to  remember  the  appearance  of  the 
monthly  parts  of  David  Copperfield  or  Pendennis  may 
have  some  inkling  of  my  sensations;  but  they  were  all 
the  intenser  as  they  recurred  at  intervals,  not  of  one 
month,  but  of  two  years.  And  it  was  not  Ibsen  the  man 
of  ideas  or  doctrines  that  meant  so  much  to  me;  it  was 
Ibsen  the  pure  poet,  the  creator  of  men  and  women,  the 
searcher  of  hearts,  the  weaver  of  strange  webs  of  destiny. 
I  can  only  trust  that,  by  diligence  in  seeking  for  the  best 
interpretation  of  his  thoughts,  I  have  paid  some  part  of 
my  debt  to  that  great  spirit,  and  to  the  glorious  country 
that  gave  him  birth. 

William  Archer. 

P.  S. — To  the  present  (1911)  edition  is  added  a  sup- 
plementary volume  containing  all  that  is  of  general  in- 


xvi  GENERAL  PREFACE 

terest  in  Ibsen's  first  drafts  and  sketches  for  his  plays, 
from  Pillars  of  Society  onwards.  These  documents 
appeared  in  the  Literary  Remains  (1909)  and  are  now 
translated  for  the  first  time. 


LADY  INGER  OF   OSTRAT 


LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT 
INTRODUCTION* 

Henrik  Johan  Ibsen  was  born  on  March  20,  1828,  at 
the  little  seaport  of  Skien,  situated  at  the  head  of  a  long 
fiord  on  the  south  coast  of  Norway.  His  great-great- 
grandfather was  a  Dane  who  settled  in  Bergen  about 
1720.  His  great-grandmother,  Wenche  Dischington,  was 
the  daughter  of  a  Scotchman,  who  had  settled  and  be- 
come naturalised  in  Norway;  and  Ibsen  himself  was 
inclined  to  ascribe  some  of  his  characteristics  to  the 
Scottish  strain  in  his  blood.  Both  his  grandmother 
(Plesner  by  name)  and  his  mother,  Maria  Cornelia 
Altenburg,  were  of  German  descent.  It  has  been  said 
that  there  was  not  a  drop  of  Norwegian  blood  in  Ibsen's 
composition;  but  it  is  doubtful  whether  this  statement 
can  be  substantiated.  Most  of  his  male  ancestors  were 
sailors;  but  his  father,  Knud  Ibsen,  was  a  merchant. 
When  Henrik  (his  first  child)  was  born,  he  seems  to 
have  been  prosperous,  and  to  have  led  a  very  social  and 
perhaps  rather  extravagant  life.  But  when  the  poet  was 
eight  years  old,  financial  disaster  overtook  the  family, 
and  they  had  to  withdraw  to  a  comparatively  small  farm- 
house on  the  outskirts  of  the  little  town,  where  they  lived 
in  poverty  and  retirement. 

As  a  boy,  Ibsen  appears  to  have  been  lacking  in  ani- 
mal spirits  and  the  ordinary  childish  taste  for  games. 

*  Copyright,  1908,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 
3 


4  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT 

Our  chief  glimpses  of  his  home  life  are  due  to  his  sister 
Hedvig,  the  only  one  of  his  family  with  whom,  in  after 
years,  he  maintained  any  intercourse,  and  whose  name 
he  gave  to  one  of  his  most  beautiful  creations.^  She  re- 
lates that  the  only  outdoor  amusement  he  cared  for  was 
"building" — in  what  material  does  not  appear.  Among 
indoor  diversions,  that  to  which  he  was  most  addicted 
was  conjuring,  a  yoimger  brother  serving  as  his  confed- 
erate. We  also  hear  of  his  cutting  out  fantastically- 
dressed  figures  in  paste-board,  attaching  them  to  wooden 
blocks,  and  ranging  them  in  groups  or  tableaux.  He 
may  be  said,  in  short,  to  have  had  a  toy  theatre  without 
the  stage.  In  all  these  amusements,  it  is  possible,  with 
a  little  goodwill,  to  divine  the  coming  dramatist — the 
constructive  faculty,  the  taste  for  technical  legerdemain, 
(which  made  him  in  his  youth  so  apt  a  disciple  of  Scribe), 
and  the  fundamental  passion  for  manipulating  fictitious 
characters.  The  education  he  received  was  of  the  most 
ordinary,  but  included  a  little  Latin.  The  subjects 
which  chiefly  interested  him  were  history  and  religion. 
He  showed  no  special  literary  proclivities,  though  a 
dream  which  he  narrated  in  a  school  composition  so 
impressed  his  master  that  he  accused  him  (much  to 
the  boy's  indignation)  of  having  copied  it  out  of  some 
book. 

His  chief  taste  was  for  drawing,  and  he  was  anxious 
to  become  an  artist,  but  his  father  could  not  afford  to 
pay  for  his  training.^     At  the  age  of  fifteen,  therefore, 

1  See  Introduction  to  The  Wild  Duck. 

=»  He  continued  to  dabble  in  painting  until  he  was  thirty,  or 
thereabouts. 


INTRODUCTION  5 

he  kad  to  s-et  about  earning  his  living,  and  was  ap- 
prenticed to  an  apothecarr  in  Grimstad,  a  toTrn  on  the 
south-west  coast  of  Norway,  between  Arendal  and  Chris- 
tianssand.  He  was  here  in  even  narrower  social  sur- 
roundings than  at  Siden.  His  birthplace  numbered 
some  3,000  inhabitants,  Grimstad  about  800.  That  he 
was  contented  with  his  lot  cannot  be  supposed;  and  the 
short,  dark,  taciturn  youth  seems  to  have  made  an  un- 
sympathetic and  rather  uncanny  impression  upon  the 
burghers  of  the  httle  township.  His  popularity-  was  not 
heightened  by  a  talent  which  he  presently  developed  for 
drawing  caricatures  and  writing  personal  lampoons. 
He  found,  however,  two  admiring  friends  in  Christopher 
Lorentz  Due,  a  custom-house  clerk,  and  a  law  student 
named  Ole  Schulerad. 

The  first  political  event  which  aroused  his  interest 
and  stirred  him  to  literary  expression  was  the  French 
Revolution  of  1848.  He  himself  writes:^  "The  times 
were  much  disturbed.  The  February  revolution,  the 
rising  in  Hungary  and  elsewhere,  the  Slesvig  War — all 
this  had  a  strong  and  ripening  effect  on  my  develop- 
ment, immature  though  it  remained  both  then  and  long 
afterwards.  I  wrote  clangorous  poems  of  encourage- 
ment to  the  ]SIagyars,  adjuring  them,  for  the  sake  of 
freedom  and  humanitv.  not  to  falter  in  their  ricjhteous 
war  against  *the  tyrants':  and  I  composed  a  long  series 
of  sonnets  to  Kin^  Oscar,  mainly,  so  far  as  I  remem- 
ber,  urging  him  to  set  aside  all  petty  considerations, 
and  march  without  delay,  at  the  head  of  his  army,  to 
the  assistance  of  our  Danish  brothers  on  the  Slesvig 
^  Preface  to  the  second  edition  of  Catilina.  1875. 


6  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT 

frontier."  The  series  of  sonnets,  and  one  of  the  poems 
"To  Hungary!"  have  been  published  in  the  poet's  Lit- 
erary Remains.  About  the  same  time  he  was  reading 
for  his  matriculation  examination  at  Christiania  Uni- 
versity, where  he  proposed  to  study  medicine;  and  it 
happened  that  the  Latin  books  prescribed  were  Sallust's 
Catiline  and  Cicero's  Catilinarian  Orations.  "I  de- 
voured these  documents,"  says  Ibsen,  "and  a  few  months 
later  my  drama  [Catilina]  was  finished."  His  friend 
Schulerud  took  it  to  Christiania,  to  offer  it  to  the  theatre 
and  to  the  publishers.  By  both  it  was  declined.  Schule- 
rud, however,  had  it  printed  at  his  own  expense;  and  soon 
after  its  appearance,  in  the  early  spring  of  1850,  Ibsen 
himself  came  to  Christiania.^ 

For  the  most  part  written  in  blank  verse,  Catilina 
towards  the  close  breaks  into  rhyming  trochaic  lines  of 
thirteen  and  fifteen  syllables.  It  is  an  extremely  youth- 
ful production,  very  interesting  from  the  biographical 
point  of  view,  but  of  small  substantive  merit.  What  is 
chiefly  notable  in  it,  perhaps,  is  the  fact  that  it  already 
shows  Ibsen  occupied  with  the  theme  which  was  to 
run  through  so  many  of  his  works — the  contrast  be- 
tween two  types  of  womanhood,  one  strong  and  reso- 
lute, even  to  criminality,  the  other  comparatively  weak, 
clinging,  and  "feminine"  in  the  conventional  sense  of 
the  word. 

In  Christiania  Ibsen  shared  Schulerud 's  lodgings,  and 
his  poverty.     There  is  a  significant  sentence  in  his  pref- 

'  This  is  his  own  statement  of  the  order  of  events.  According 
to  Halvdan  Koht  {Samlede  Voerker,  vol.  x,  p.  i)  he  arrived  in  Chris- 
tiania in  March,  1850,  and  Catilina  did  not  ai)pear  until  April. 


INTRODUCTION  7 

ace  to  the  re-written  CatiUna,  in  which  he  tells  how  the 
bulk  of  the  first  edition  was  sold  as  waste  paper,  and 
adds:  "In  the  days  immediately  following  we  lacked  none 
of  the  first  necessities  of  life."  He  went  to  a  "student- 
factory,"  or,  as  we  should  say,  a  "crammer's,"  managed 
by  one  Heltberg;  and  there  he  fell  in  with  several  of  the 
leading  spirits  of  his  generation — notably  with  Bjcirnson, 
A.  O.  Vinje,  and  Jonas  Lie.  In  the  early  summer  of 
1850  he  wrote  a  one-act  play,  Kiwmpehoien  (The  War- 
rior's Barrow) ,  entirely  in  the  sentimental  and  somewhat 
verbose  manner  of  the  Danish  poet  Oehlenschlager.  It 
was  accepted  by  the  Christiania  Theatre,  and  performed 
three  times,  but  cannot  have  put  much  money  in  the 
poet's  purse.  With  Paul  Botten-Hansen  and  A.  O.  Vinje 
he  co-operated  in  the  production  of  a  weekly  satirical 
paper,  at  first  entitled  Manden  {The  Man),  but  after- 
wards Andhrimjier,  after  the  cook  of  the  gods  in  Val- 
halla. To  this  journal,  which  lasted  only  from  January 
to  September,  1851,  he  contributed,  among  other  things, 
a  satirical  "music-tragedy,"  entitled  Norma,  or  a  Politi- 
ciayi's  Love}  As  the  circulation  of  the  paper  is  said  to 
have  been  something  under  a  hundred,  it  cannot  have 
paid  its  contributors  very  lavishly.  About  this  time,  too, 
he  narrowly  escaped  arrest  on  account  of  some  politi- 
cal agitation,  in  which,  however,  he  had  not  been  very 
deeply  concerned. 

Meanwhile  a  movement  had  been  going  forward  in 
the  capital  of  Western  Norway,  Bergen,  which  was  to 
have  a  determining  influence  on  Ibsen's  destinies. 

*  The  whole  three  acts  are  comprised  in  eight  pages  of  the  Literary 
Remains  (vol.  i). 


8  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT 

Up  to  1850  there  had  been  practically  no  Norwegian 
drama.  The  two  great  poets  of  the  first  half  of  the  cen- 
tury, Wergeland  and  Welhaven,  had  nothing  dramatic 
in  their  composition,  though  Wergeland  more  than  once 
essayed  the  dramatic  form.  Danish  actors  and  Danish 
plays  held  entire  possession  of  the  Christiania  Theatre; 
and,  though  amateur  performances  were  not  uncommon 
in  provincial  tow^ns,  it  was  generally  held  that  the  Nor- 
wegians, as  a  nation,  were  devoid  of  all  talent  for  acting. 
The  very  sound  of  Norwegian  (as  distinct  from  Danish) 
was  held  bv  Norwegians  themselves  to  be  ridiculous  on 
the  stage.  Fortunately  Ole  Bull,  the  great  violinist,  was 
not  of  that  opinion.  AVith  the  insight  of  genius,  he  saw 
that  the  time  had  come  for  the  development  of  a  national 
drama;  he  set  forth  this  view  in  a  masterly  argument 
addressed  to  the  Storthing;  and  he  gave  practical  effect 
to  it  by  establishing,  at  his  own  risk,  a  Norwegian  the- 
atre in  Bergen.  How  rightly  he  had  judged  the  situa- 
tion may  be  estimated  from  the  fact  that  among  the  raw 
lads  who  first  presented  themselves  for  employment  was 
Johannes  Brun,  afterwards  one  of  the  greatest  of  come- 
dians; while  the  first  "theatre-poet "  engaged  by  the  man- 
agement was  none  other  than  Henrik  Ibsen. 

The  theatre  was  opened  on  January  2,  1850;  Ibsen 
entered  upon  his  duties  (at  a  salary  of  less  than  £70  a 
year)  in  November,  1851.^ 

Incredibly,  pathetically  small,  according  to  our  ideas, 

were  the  material  resources  of  Bull's  gallant  enterprise. 

'  The  history  of  Ibsen's  connection  with  the  Bergen  Theatre  is 
written  at  some  length  in  an  article  by  me,  entitled  "  Ibsen's  Ap- 
prenticeship," published  in  the  Fortnightly  Review  for  January, 
1904.     From  that  article  I  quote  freely  in  the  following  pages. 


INTRODUCTION  9 

The  town  of  Bergen  numbered  only  25,000  inhabitants. 
Performances  were  given  only  twice,  or,  at  the  outside, 
three  times,  a  week;  and  the  highest  price  of  admission 
was  two  shillings.  What  can  have  been  attempted  in 
the  way  of  scenery  or  costumes  it  is  hard  to  imagine.  Of 
a  three-act  play,  produced  in  1852,  we  read  that  "the 
mounting,  which  cost  .£22  10.9.,  left  nothing  to  be  de- 
sired." 

Ibsen's  connection  with  the  Bergen  Theatre  lasted 
from  November  6,  1851,  until  the  summer  of  1857 — 
that  is  to  sav,  from  his  twentv-fourth  to  his  thirtieth  year. 
He  was  engaged  in  the  first  instance  "to  assist  the  the- 
atre as  dramatic  author,"  but  in  the  following;  vear  he 
received  from  the  management  a  "travelling  stipend"  of 
£45  to  enable  him  to  study  the  art  of  theatrical  produc- 
tion in  Denmark  and  Germany,  with  the  stipulation  that, 
on  his  return,  he  should  undertake  the  duties  of  "scene 
instructor" — that  is  to  say,  stage-manager  or  producer. 
In  this  function  he  seems  to  have  been — as,  indeed,  he 
always  was — extremely  conscientious.  A  book  exists  in 
the  Bergen  Public  Library  containing  (it  is  said)  careful 
designs  by  him  for  every  scene  in  the  plays  he  produced, 
and  full  notes  as  to  entrances,  exits,  groupings,  costumes, 
accessories,  etc.  But  he  was  not  an  animating  or  in- 
spiring producer.  He  had  none  of  the  histrionic  vivid- 
ness of  his  successor  in  the  post,  Bjornstjerne  Bjornson, 
who,  like  all  great  producers,  could  not  only  tell  the  act- 
ors what  to  do,  but  show  them  how  to  do  it.  Perhaps 
it  was  a  sense  of  his  lack  of  impulse  that  induced  the 
management  to  give  him  a  colleague,  one  Herman  Lad- 
ing, with  whom  his  relations  were  none  of  the  happiest. 


10  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT 

Ibsen  is  even  said,  on  one  occasion,  to  have  challenged 
Lading  to  a  duel. 

One  of  the  duties  of  the  "theatre-poet"  was  to  have  a 
new  play  ready  for  each  recurrence  of  the  "Foundation 
Day"  of  the  theatre,  January  2.  On  that  date,  in  1853, 
Ibsen  produced  a  romantic  comedy,  St.  Johns  Night, 
which  was  first  printed  in  the  Literary  Remains  (1909). 
It  is  an  exceedingly  immature  work,  confused  and  triv- 
ial in  intrigue,  and  for  the  most  part  conventional  in 
characterization.  Nevertheless  it  is  interesting,  inas- 
much as  it  contains  the  germs  of  many  ideas  to  which 
he  afterwards  returned  in  his  maturer  works.  In  the 
personage  of  Julian  Paulsen,  for  example — Ibsen's  first 
essay  in  satirical  character-drawing — we  find  some  traits 
which  reappear  in  Stensgard,  and  others  which  fore- 
shadow Hialmar  Ekdal.  But  it  is  principally  of  the 
Troll-scenes  in  Peer  Gynt  that  we  are  reminded.  One 
of  the  poet's  aims,  it  would  seem,  was  to  point  the  con- 
trast between  true  and  false — between  sincere  and  in- 
sincere— romanticism.  To  this  end,  he  shows  us  a  fairy 
revel  on  St.  John's  Night,  which  is  seen  in  its  true  colors 
by  the  hero  and  heroine,  while  the  ridiculous  Paulsen 
and  his  affected  inamorata  mistake  it  for  a  dance  of  peas- 
ants around  a  bonfire.  Moreover,  Paulsen,  who  is  really 
an  amusing  character,  confesses  that  he  was  consumed 
by  an  ideal  passion  for  the  "huldra"  or  dryad  of  North- 
ern mythology,  until  he  learned  that  she  was  provided 
with  a  tail,  which  shocked  his  aesthetic  sensibilities. 
Thus  at  many  points  we  find  the  poet's  mind  already 
moving  upon  the  plane  of  fantasy  to  which  it  was  to  re- 
turn fourteen  years  later  in  the  second  and  third  acts  of 


INTRODUCTION  11 

Peer  Gynt.  The  play  had  no  success,  and  was  per- 
formed only  twice.  For  the  next  Foundation  Day,  Jan- 
uary 2,  1854,  Ibsen  prepared  a  revised  version  of  The 
Warrior's  Barrow,  ah-eady  produced  in  Christiania.  A 
year  later,  January  2,  1855,  Lady  Inger  of  Ostrat  was 
produced — a  work  still  immature,  indeed,  but  giving,  for 
the  first  time,  no  uncertain  promise  of  the  master  dram- 
atist to  come. 

In  an  autobiographical  letter  to  the  Danish  critic, 
Peter  Hansen,  written  from  Dresden  in  1870,  Ibsen  says: 
"Lady  Inger  of  Ostrat  is  the  result  of  a  love-affair — 
hastily  entered  into  and  violently  broken  off — to  which 
several  of  my  minor  poems  may  also  be  attributed,  such 
as  Wild-flowers  and  Pot-plajits,  A  Bird-Song,  etc."  The 
heroine  of  this  love-affair  can  now  be  identified  as  a  lady 
named  Henrikke  Hoist,  who  seems  to  have  preserved 
through  a  long  life  the  fresh,  bright  spirit,  the  overflow- 
ing joyousness,  which  attracted  Ibsen  when  she  was  only 
in  her  seventeenth  year.  Their  relation  was  of  the  most 
innocent.  It  went  no  further  than  a  few  surreptitious 
rambles  in  the  romantic  surroundings  of  Bergen,  usu- 
ally with  a  somewhat  older  girl  to  play  propriety,  and 
with  a  bag  of  sugar-plums  to  fill  up  pauses  in  the  con- 
versation. The  "violent"  ending  seems  to  have  come 
when  the  young  lady's  father  discovered  the  secret  of 
these  excursions,  and  doubtless  placed  her  under  more 
careful  control.  What  there  was  in  this  episode  to  sug- 
gest, or  in  any  way  influence.  Lady  Inger,  I  cannot  under- 
stand. Nevertheless  the  identification  seems  quite  cer- 
tain.    The  aftair  had  a  charming  little  sequel.     During 


12  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT 

the  days  of  their  love's  young  dream,  Ibsen  treated  the 
"wild- flower"  with  a  sort  of  shy  and  distant  chivalry  at 
which  the  wood-gods  must  have  smiled.  He  avoided 
even  touching  her  hand,  and  always  addressed  her  by 
the  "De"  (you)  of  formal  politeness.  But  when  they 
met  again  after  many  years,  he  a  famous  poet  and  she  a 
middle-aged  matron,  he  instinctively  adopted  the  "Du" 
(thou)  of  affectionate  intimacy,  and  she  responded  in 
kind.  He  asked  her  whether  she  had  recognised  her- 
self in  any  of  his  works,  and  she  replied:  "I  really  don't 
know,  unless  it  be  in  the  parson's  wife  in  Love's  Com- 
edy, with  her  eight  children  and  her  perpetual  knitting." 
"Ibsen  protested,"  says  Herr  Paulsen,  in  whose  Samliv 
med  Ibsen  a  full  account  of  the  episode  may  be  read.  It 
is  interesting  to  note  that  the  lady  did  not  recognise  her- 
self in  Elina  Gyldenlove,  any  more  than  we  can. 

It  must  have  been  less  than  a  year  after  the  produc- 
tion of  Lady  higer  that  Ibsen  made  the  acquaintance  of 
the  lady  who  was  to  be  his  wife.  Susanna  Dae  Thore- 
sen  was  a  daughter  (by  his  second  marriage)  of  Pro- 
vost^ Thoresen,  of  Bergen,  whose  third  wife,  Magdalene 
Krag,  afterwards  became  an  authoress  of  some  celebrity. 
It  is  recorded  that  Ibsen's  first  visit  to  the  Thoresen 
household  took  place  on  January  7,  1856,^  and  that  on 
that  occasion,  speaking  to  Susanna  Thoresen,  he  was 
suddenly  moved  to  say  to  her:  "You  are  now  Elina,  but 

'Provost  ("Provst")  is  an  ecclesiastical  title,  roughly  equivalent 
to  Dean. 

2  See  article  by  Dr.  Julius  Elias  in  Die  neue  Rundschau,  December, 
190G,  p.  1463.  Dr.  Brahm,  in  the  same  magazine  (p.  1414),  writes 
as  though  this  were  Ibsen's  first  meeting  with  his  wife;  and  a  note 
by  Halvdan  Koht,  in  the  Norwegian  edition  of  Ibsen's  Letters, 


INTRODUCTION  13 

in  time  you  will  become  Lady  Inger."  Twenty  years 
later,  at  Christmas,  1876,  he  gave  his  wife  a  copy  of  the 
German  translation  of  Lady  Inger,  with  the  following 
inscription  on  the  fly-leaf: 

"This  book  is  by  right  indefeasible  thine, 
"Who  in  spirit  art  born  of  the  Ostrat  line." 

In  Lady  Inger  Ibsen  has  chosen  a  theme  from  the 
very  darkest  hour  of  Norwegian  history.  King  Sverre's 
democratic  monarchy,  dating  from  the  beginning  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  had  paralysed  the  old  Norwegian  no- 
bility. One  by  one  the  great  families  died  out,  their 
possessions  being  concentrated  in  the  hands  of  the  few 
survivors,  who  regarded  their  wealth  as  a  privilege  un- 
hampered by  obligations.  At  the  beginning  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  then,  patriotism  and  public  spirit  were 
almost  dead  among  the  nobles,  while  the  monarchy,  be- 
fore which  the  old  aristocracy  had  fallen,  was  itself  dead, 
or  rather  merged  (since  1380)  in  the  Crown  of  Denmark. 
The  peasantry,  too,  had  long  ago  lost  all  effective  voice 
in  political  affairs;  so  that  Norway  lay  prone  and  inert 
at  the  mercy  of  her  Danish  rulers.  It  is  at  the  moment 
of  deepest  national  degradation  that  Ibsen  has  placed 
his  tragedy;  and  the  degradation  was,  in  fact,  even  deep- 
er than  he  represents  it,  for  the  longings  for  freedom,  the 

seems  to  bear  out  this  view.  But  it  would  appear  that  what  Fni 
Ibsen  told  Dr.  Elias  was  that  on  the  date  mentioned  Ibsen  "for  the 
first  time  visited  at  her  father's  house."  The  terms  of  the  anecdote 
almost  compel  us  to  assume  that  he  had  previously  met  her  else- 
where. It  seems  almost  inconceivable  that  Ibsen,  of  all  people, 
should  have  made  such  a  speech  to  a  lady  on  their  very  first  meeting. 


14  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT 

stirrings  of  revolt,  which  form  the  motive-power  of  the 
action,  are  invented,  or  at  any  rate  ideaUsed,  by  the 
poet.  Fru  Inger  Ottisdatter  Gyldenldve  was,  in  fact, 
the  greatest  personage  of  her  day  in  Norway.  She  was 
the  best-born,  the  wealthiest,  and  probably  the  ablest 
woman  in  the  land.  At  the  time  when  Ibsen  wrote,  lit- 
tle more  than  this  seems  to  have  been  known  of  her; 
so  that  in  making  her  the  victim  of  a  struggle  between  pa- 
triotic duty  and  maternal  love,  he  was  perhaps  poetising 
in  the  absence  of  positive  evidence,  rather  than  in  oppo- 
sition to  it.  Subsequent  research,  unfortunately,  has 
shown  that  Fru  Inger  was  but  little  troubled  with  patri- 
otic aspirations.  She  was  a  hard  and  grasping  woman, 
ambitious  of  social  power  and  predominance,  but  inac- 
cessible, or  nearly  so,  to  national  feeling.  It  was  from 
sheer  social  ambition,  and  with  no  qualms  of  patriotic 
conscience,  that  she  married  her  daughters  to  Danish 
noblemen.  True,  she  lent  some  support  to  the  insur- 
rection of  the  so-called  "Dale-junker,"  a  peasant  who 
gave  himself  out  as  the  heir  of  Sten  Sture,  a  former  re- 
gent of  Sweden;  but  there  is  not  a  tittle  of  ground  for 
making  this  pretender  her  son.  He  might,  indeed,  have 
become  her  son-in-law,  for,  speculating  on  his  chances 
of  success,  she  had  betrothed  one  of  her  daughters  to 
him.  Thus  the  Fru  Inger  of  Ibsen's  play  is,  in  her  char- 
acter and  circumstances,  as  much  a  creation  of  the  poet's 
as  though  no  historic  personage  of  that  name  had  ever 
existed.  Olaf  Skaktavl,  Nils  Lykke,  and  Elina  Gylden- 
love  are  also  historic  names;  but  with  them,  too,  Ibsen 
has  dealt  with  the  utmost  freedom.  The  real  Nils 
Lykke  was  married  in  1528  to  the  real  Elina  Gylden- 


INTRODUCTION  15 

love.  She  died  four  years  later,  leaving  him  two  chil- 
dren; and  thereupon  he  would  fain  have  married  her 
sister  Lucia.  Such  a  union,  however,  was  regarded  as 
incestuous,  and  the  lovers  failed  in  their  effort  to  obtain 
a  special  dispensation.  Lucia  then  became  her  brother- 
in-law's  mistress,  and  bore  him  a  son.  But  the  ecclesi- 
astical law  was  in  those  days  not  to  be  trifled  with; 
Nils  Lykke  was  thrown  into  prison  for  his  crime,  con- 
demned, and  killed  in  his  dungeon,  in  the  year  of 
grace  1535.  Thus  there  was  a  tragedy  ready-made  in 
Ibsen's  material,  though  it  was  not  the  tragedy  he  chose 
to  write. 

The  Bergen  public  did  not  greatly  take  to  Lady  Inger, 
and  it  was  performed,  in  its  novelty,  only  twice.  Nor 
is  the  reason  far  to  seek.  The  extreme  complexity  of 
the  intrigue,  and  the  lack  of  clear  guidance  through  its 
mazes,  probably  left  the  Bergen  audiences  no  less  puz- 
zled than  the  London  audiences  who  saw  the  play  at  the 
Scala  Theatre  in  1906.^  It  is  a  play  which  can  be  ap- 
preciated only  by  spectators  who  know  it  beforehand. 
Such  audiences  it  has  often  found  in  Norway,  where  it 
was  revived  at  the  Christiania  Theatre  in  1875;  but  in 
Denmark  and  Germany,  though  it  has  been  produced 
several  times,  it  has  never  been  very  successful.  We 
need  go  no  further  than  the  end  of  the  first  act  to  under- 
stand the  reason.  On  an  audience  which  knows  noth- 
ing of  the  play,  the  sudden  appearance  of  a  "Stranger," 
to  whose  identity  it  has  not  the  slightest  clue,  can  pro- 

1  Stage  Society  performances,  January  28  and  29,  1906.  Lady 
Inger  was  played  by  Miss  Edyth  Olive,  Elina  by  Miss  Alice  Craw- 
ford, Nils  Lykke  by  Mr.  Henry  Ainley,  Olaf  Skaktavl  by  Mr.  Alfred 
Brydone,  and  Nils  Stensson  by  Mr.  Harcourt  Williams. 


16  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT 

duce  no  effect  save  one  of  bewilderment.  To  rely  on 
such  an  incident  for  what  was  evidently  intended  to  be 
a  thrilling  "curtain,"  was  to  betray  extreme  inexperi- 
ence; and  this  single  trait  is  typical  of  much  in  the  play. 
Nevertheless  Lady  Inger  marks  a  decisive  advance  in 
Ibsen's  development.  It  marks,  one  may  say,  the  birth 
of  his  power  of  invention.  He  did  not  as  yet  know  how 
to  restrain  or  clarify  his  invention,  and  he  made  clumsy 
use  of  the  stock  devices  of  a  bad  school.  But  he  had 
once  for  all  entered  upon  that  course  of  technical 
training  which  it  took  him  five-and-twenty  years  to 
complete.  He  was  learning  much  that  he  was  after- 
wards to  unlearn;  but  had  he  not  undergone  this  ap- 
prenticeship, he  would  never  have  been  the  master  he 
ultimately  became. 

When  Ibsen  entered  upon  his  duties  at  the  Bergen 
Theatre,  the  influence  of  Eugene  Scribe  and  his  imita- 
tors was  at  its  very  height.  Of  the  one  hundred  and 
forty-five  plays  produced  during  his  tenure  of  office,  more 
than  half  (seventy-five)  were  French,  twenty-one  being 
by  Scribe  himself,  and  at  least  half  the  remainder  by 
adepts  of  his  school,  Bayard,  Dumanoir,  Melesville,  etc. 
It  is  to  this  school  that  Ibsen,  in  Lady  Inger,  proclaims 
his  adherence;  and  he  did  not  finally  shake  off  its  in- 
fluence until  he  wrote  the  Third  Act  of  A  DolVs  House 
in  1879.  Although  the  romantic  environment  of  the 
play,  and  the  tragic  intensity  of  the  leading  character, 
tend  to  disguise  the  relationship,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  Lady  Inger  is,  in  essence,  simply  a  French  drama  of 
intrigue,  constructed  after  the  method  of  Scribe,  as  ex- 
emplified in  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  Les  Conies  de  la  Reine 


INTRODUCTION  17 

de  Navarre,^  and  a  dozen  other  French  plays,  with  the 
staging  of  which  the  poet  was  then  occupied.  It  might 
seem  that  the  figure  of  EHna,  brooding  over  the  thought 
of  her  dead  sister,  coflSned  in  the  vault  below  the  ban- 
queting-hall,  belonged  rather  to  German  romanticism; 
but  there  are  plenty  of  traces  of  German  romanticism 
even  in  the  French  plays  with  which  the  good  people 
of  Bergen  were  regaled.  For  the  suggestion  of  grave- 
vaults  and  coffined  heroines,  for  example,  Ibsen  need 
have  gone  no  further  than  Dumas's  Catherine  Howard, 
which  he  produced  in  March,  1853.  I  do  not,  however, 
pretend  that  his  romantic  colouring  came  to  him  from 
France.  It  came  to  him,  doubtless,  from  Germany,  by 
way  of  Denmark.  My  point  is  that  the  conduct  of  the 
intrigue  in  Lady  Inger  shows  the  most  unmistakable 
marks  of  his  study  of  the  great  French  plot-manipulators. 
Its  dexterity  and  its  artificiality  alike  are  neither  Ger- 
man nor  Danish,  but  French.  Ibsen  had  learnt  the 
great  secret  of  Scribe — the  secret  of  dramatic  movement. 
The  play  is  full  of  those  ingenious  complications,  mis- 
takes of  identity,  and  rapid  turns  of  fortune  by  which 
Scribe  enchained  the  interest  of  his  audiences.  Its  cen- 
tral theme — a  mother  plunging  into  intrigue  and  crime 
for  the  advancement  of  her  son,  only  to  find  that  her  son 
himself  has  been  her  victim — is  as  old  as  Greek  tragedy. 
The  secondary  story,  too — that  of  Elina's  wild  infatua- 
tion for  the  betrayer  and  practically  the  murderer  of  her 
sister — could  probably  be  paralleled  in  the  ballad  litera- 

*  These  two  plays  were  produced,  respectively,  in  March  and 
October,  1854,  at  the  very  time  when  Ibsen  must  have  been  plan- 
ning and  composing  Lady  Inger. 


18  LADY   INGER   OF  OSTRAT 

ture  of  Scotland,  Germany,  or  Denmark,  and  might,  in- 
deed, have  been  told,  in  verse  or  prose,  by  Sir  Walter 
Scott.  But  these  very  un-Parisian  elements  are  handled 
in  a  fundamentally  Parisian  fashion,  and  Ibsen  is  clearly 
fascinated,  for  the  time,  by  the  ideal  of  what  was  after- 
wards to  be  known  as  the  "well-made  play."  The  fact 
that  the  result  is  in  reality  an  ill-made  play  in  no  way  in- 
validates this  theory.  It  is  perhaps  the  final  condemna- 
tion of  the  well-made  play  that  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten 
— and  even  in  the  hands  of  far  more  experienced  play- 
wrights than  the  young  Bergen  "theatre-poet" — it  is  apt 
to  prove  ill-made  after  all. 

Far  be  it  from  me,  however,  to  speak  in  pure  dispar- 
agement of  Lady  Inger.  With  all  its  defects,  it  seems  to 
me  manifestly  the  work  of  a  great  poet — the  only  one  of 
Ibsen's  plays  prior  to  The  Vikings  at  Helgeland  of  which 
this  can  be  said.  It  may  be  that  early  impressions  mis- 
lead me;  but  I  still  cannot  help  seeing  in  Lady  Inger  a 
figure  of  truly  tragic  grandeur;  in  Nils  Lykke  one  of  the 
few  really  seductive  seducers  in  literature;  and  in  many 
passages  of  the  dialogue,  the  touch  of  a  master  hand. 

W.  A. 


LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT 

(1855) 


CHARACTERS 

Lady  Inger  Ottisdaughter  Romer,  widow  of  High  Steward 

Nils  Gyldenlove. 
Elina  Gyldenlove,  her  daughter. 
Nils  Lykke,  Danish  knight  and  councillor. 
Olaf  Skaktavl,  an  outlawed  Norwegian  noble. 
Nils  Stensson. 

Jens  Bielke,  Swedish  commander. 
BiORN,  majordomo  at  Ostrat. 
Finn,  a  servant. 
EiNAR  HuK,  bailiff  at  Ostrat. 
Servants,  peasants,  and  Sivedish  men-at-arms. 


The  action  takes  place  at  Ostrat  Manor,  on  the  Trondhiem  Fiord, 

in  the  year  1528. 

[Pronunciation  of  Names. — Ostrat  =  Ostrot;  Elina  (Nor- 
wegian, Eline)  =  Eleena;  Stensson  =  Staynson;  Biorn  =  Byorn; 
Jens  Bielke  =  Yens  Byelke;  Huk  =  Hook.  The  g's  in  "Inger" 
and  in  "Gyldenlove"  are,  of  course,  hard.  The  final  e's  and 
the  o's  pronounced  much  as  in  German.] 


20 


LADY  INGER  OF   OSTRAT 

DRAMA   IN   FIVE   ACTS 


ACT   FIRST 


A  room  at  Ostrat.  Through  an  open  door  in  the  hack,  the 
Banquet  Hall  is  seen  in  faint  moonlight,  ivhich  shines 
fitfully  through  a  deep  boto-window  in  the  opposite 
wall.  To  the  right,  an  entrance-door;  further  for- 
ward, a  curtained  windoio.  On  tJie  left,  a  door  lead- 
ing to  the  inner  rooms;  further  forward  a  large  open 
fireplace,  which  casts  a  glow  over  tJie  room.  It  is  a 
stormy  evening. 

BioRN  and  Finn  are  sitting  by  the  fireplace.  The  latter 
is  occupied  in  polishing  a  helmet.  Several  pieces  of 
armour  lie  near  them,  along  with  a  sword  and  shield. 

Finn. 

\After  a  pause.]     Who  was  Knut^  Alfson  ? 

BlORN. 

My  Lady  says  he  was  the  last  of  Norway's  knighthood. 

Finn. 

And  the  Danes  killed  him  at  Oslo-fiord .' 

*  Pronounce  Knoot. 
21 


22  LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

BlORN. 

If  you  know  not  that,  ask  any  child  of  five. 

Finn. 

So  Knut  Alfson  was  the  last  of  our  knighthood  ?  And 
now  he's  dead  and  gone!  [Holds  up  the  helmet.]  Well, 
thou  must  e'en  be  content  to  hang  scoured  and  bright  in 
the  Banquet  Hall;  for  what  art  thou  now  but  an  empty 
nut-shell  ?  The  kernel — the  worms  have  eaten  that 
many  a  winter  agone. 

What  say  you,  Biorn — may  not  one  call  Norway's  land 
an  empty  nut-shell,  even  like  the  helmet  here;  bright 
without,  worm-eaten  within  ? 

Biorn. 

Hold  your  peace,  and  mind  your  task! — Is  the  helmet 
ready  ? 

Finn. 
It  shines  like  silver  in  the  moonlight. 

Biorn. 

Then  put  it  by. — See  here;  scrape  the  rust  off  the 
sword. 

Finn. 

[Turning  the  sword  over  and  examining  it.]  Is  it 
worth  while  ? 

Biorn. 
What  mean  you  ? 

Finn. 
The  edge  is  gone. 


ACT  I]  LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT  23 

BlORN. 

What's  that  to  you?     Give  it  me.— Here,  take  the 
shield. 

Finn. 
[As  before.]     There  is  no  grip  to  it! 

BlORN. 

[Mutters.]     Let  me  get  a  grip  on  y  o  u 


[Finn  hums  to  himself  for  a  while. 

BlORN. 

What  now  ? 

Finn. 

An  empty  helmet,  a  sword  with  no  edge,  a  shield  with 
no  grip — so  it  has  all  come  to  that.  Who  can  blame 
Lady  Inger  if  she  leaves  such  weapons  to  hang  scoured 
and  polished  on  the  walls,  instead  of  rusting  them  in 
Danish  blood  ? 

BlORN. 

Folly !     Is  there  not  peace  in  the  land  ? 

Finn. 

Peace  ?  Ay,  when  the  peasant  has  shot  away  his  last 
arrow,  and  the  wolf  has  reft  the  last  lamb  from  the  fold, 
then  is  there  peace  between  them.  But  'tis  a  strange 
friendship.  Well,  well;  let  that  pass.  'Tis  fitting,  as  I 
said,  that  the  harness  hang  bright  in  the  hall;  for  you 
know  the  old  saw:  "Call  none  a  man  but  the  knightly 
man."     So  now  that  we  have  never  a  knight  in  the  land. 


24  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

we  have  never  a  man;  and  where  no  man  is,  there  must 
women  order  things;  therefore 

BlORN, 

Therefore — therefore  I  bid  you  hold  your  foul  prate! 

[Rises. 
The  evening  wears  on.     Enough;  you  may  hang  the 
helmet  and  armour  in  the  hall  again. 

Finn. 

[I71  a  low  voice.]     Nay,  best  let  it  be  till  to-morrow. 

BlORN. 

What,  do  you  fear  the  dark  ? 

Finn. 

Not  by  day.  And  if  so  be  I  fear  it  at  even,  I  am  not 
the  only  one.  Ah,  you  may  look;  I  tell  you  in  the  house- 
folk's  room  there  is  talk  of  many  things.  [Lower.]  They 
say  that,  night  by  night,  a  tall  figure,  clad  in  black,  walks 
the  Banquet  Hall. 

Biorn. 
Old  wives'  tales! 

Finn. 

Ah,  but  they  all  swear  'tis  true. 

Biorn. 
That  I  well  believe. 

Finn. 

The  strangest  of  all  is  that  Lady  Inger  thinks  the 
same 


ACT  I]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  25 

BlORN. 

[Starting.]     Lady  Inger?     What  does  she  think? 

Finn. 

What  Lady  Inger  thinks?  I  warrant  few  can  tell 
that.  But  sure  it  is  that  she  has  no  rest  in  her.  See 
you  not  how  day  by  day  she  grows  thinner  and  paler? 
[Looks  keenly  at  him.]     They  say  she  never  sleeps — and 

that  it  is  because  of  the  black  figure 

[While  he  is  sfeaking,  Elina  Gyldenlove  has  ap- 
peared in  the  half-open  door  on  the  left.  She  stops 
and  listens,  unobserved. 

Biorn. 
And  you  believe  such  follies  ? 

Finn. 

Well,  half  and  half.  There  be  folk,  too,  that  read 
things  another  way.  But  that  is  pure  malice,  I'll  be 
bound. — Hearken,  Biorn — know  you  the  song  that  is 
going  round  the  country  ? 

Biorn. 
A  song? 

Finn. 

Ay,  'tis  on  all  folks'  lips.  'Tis  a  shameful  scurril 
thing,  for  sure;  yet  it  goes  prettily.     Just  listen: 

[Sings  in  a  low  voice. 

Dame  Inger  sitteth  in  Ostrat  fair, 
She  wraps  her  in  costly  furs — 


26  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

She  decks  her  in  velvet  and  ermine  and  vair, 

Red  gold  are  the  beads  that  she  twines  in  her  hair — 

But  small  peace  in  that  soul  of  hers. 

Dame  Inger  hath  sold  her  to  Denmark's  lord. 
She  bringeth  her  folk  'neath  the  stranger's  yoke — 
In  guerdon  whereof 

[BioRN  enraged,  seizes  him  hy  the  throat.     Elina 
Gyldenlove  withdraws  without  having  been  seen. 

BlORN. 

I  will  send  you  guerdonless  to  the  foul  fiend,  if  you 
prate  of  Lady  Inger  but  one  unseemly  word  more. 

Finn. 

[Breaking  from   his  grasp.]     Why — did   /  make   the 
song?  [The  blast  of  a  horn  is  heard  from  the  right. 

BlORN. 

Hark — what  is  that .'' 

Finn. 
A  horn.     Then  there  come  guests  to-night. 

BlORN. 

[At  the  window.]     They  are  opening  the  gate.     I  hear 
the  clatter  of  hoofs  in  the  courtyard.    It  must  be  a  knight. 

Finn. 

A  knight  ?     Nay,  that  can  scarce  be. 


ACT  I]  LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT  27 

BlORX. 

Why  not  ? 

FiXN. 

Did  you  not  say  yourself:  the  last  of  our  knighthood 
is  dead  and  gone  ?  \Goes  out  to  tlie  right. 

BlORX. 

The  accursed  knave,  with  his  prying  and  peering! 
What  avails  all  my  striving  to  hide  and  hush  things? 
They  whisper  of  her  even  now — ;  soon  all  men  will  be 
shouting  aloud  that 

Elixa. 

[Comes  in  again  through  the  door  on  the  left;  looks 
round  her,  and  says  with  suppressed  emotion:]  Are  you 
alone,  Biorn  ? 

BlORX. 

Is  it  you.  Mistress  Elina  ? 

Elixa. 

Come,  Biorn,  tell  me  one  of  your  stories;  I  know  you 
can  tell  others  than  those  that 

BlORX. 

A  story?     Now — so  late  in  the  evening ? 

Elixa. 

If  vou  count  from  the  time  when  it  grew  dark  at 
Ostrat,  then  'tis  late  indeed. 


28  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

BlORN. 

What  ails  you  ?  Has  aught  crossed  you  ?  You  seem 
so  restless. 

Elina. 
Maybe  so. 

BlORN. 

There  is  something  amiss.  I  have  hardly  known  you 
this  half  year  past. 

Elina. 

Bethink  you:  this  half  year  past  my  dearest  sister 
Lucia  has  been  sleeping  in  the  vault  below. 

BlORN. 

That  is  not  all,  Mistress  Elina — it  is  not  that  alone 
that  makes  you  now  thoughtful  and  white  and  silent, 
now  restless  and  ill  at  ease,  as  you  are  to-night. 

Elina. 

Not  that  alone,  you  think  ?  And  wherefore  not  ?  Was 
she  not  gentle  and  pure  and  fair  as  a  summer  night  ? 
Biorn, — I  tell  you,  Lucia  was  dear  to  me  as  my  life. 
Have  you  forgotten  how  many  a  time,  when  we  were 
children,  we  sat  on  your  knee  in  the  winter  evenings.'' 
You  sang  songs  to  us,  and  told  us  tales 

Biorn. 
Ay,  then  you  were  blithe  and  gay. 

Elina. 

Ah,  then,  Biorn!  Then  I  lived  a  glorious  life  in  fable- 
land,  and  in  my  own  imaginings.     Can  it  be  that  the 


ACT  I]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  29 

sea-strand  was  naked  then  as  now?  If  it  was  so,  I 
knew  it  not.  'Twas  there  I  loved  to  go  weaving  all  mv 
fair  romances;  my  heroes  came  from  afar  and  sailed 
again  across  the  sea;  I  lived  in  their  midst,  and  set  forth 
with  them  when  they  sailed  away.  [Sinks  on  a  chair.] 
Now  I  feel  so  faint  and  weary;  I  can  live  no  longer  in 
my  tales.  They  are  only — tales.  [Rising,  vehemently.] 
Biorn,  know  you  what  has  made  me  sick?  A  truth;  a 
hateful,  hateful  truth,  that  gnaws  me  day  and  night. 

Biorn. 
What  mean  you  ? 

Elina. 

Do  you  remember  how  sometimes  you  would  give  us 
good  counsel  and  wise  saws  ?  Sister  Lucia  followed  them; 
but  I — ah,  well-a-day! 

BlORX. 

[Consoling  her.]     Well,  well ! 

Elina. 

I  know  it — I  was  proud,  overweening!  In  all  our 
games,  I  would  still  be  the  Queen,  because  I  was  the 
tallest,  the  fairest,  the  wisest!     I  know  it! 

Biorn. 
That  is  true. 

Elina. 

Once  you  took  me  by  the  hand  and  looked  earnestly 
at  me,  and  said:  "Be  not  proud  of  your  fairness,  or  your 
wisdom;  but  be  proud  as  the  mountain  eagle  as  often 
as  you  think:  I  am  Inger  Gyldenlove's  daughter!" 


30  LADY  INGER  OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

BlORN. 

And  was  it  not  matter  enough  for  pride  ? 

Elina. 

You  told  me  so  often  enough,  Biorn!  Oh,  you  told 
me  many  a  tale  in  those  days.  [Presses  his  hand.] 
Thanks  for  them  all! — Now,  tell  me  one  more;  it  might 
make  me  light  of  heart  again,  as  of  old. 

Biorn. 
You  are  a  child  no  longer. 

Elina. 

Nay,  indeed!  But  let  me  dream  that  I  am. — Come, 
tell  on! 

[Throws  herself  into  a  chair.     Biorn  sits  on  the  edge 
of  the  high  hearth. 

Biorn. 
Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  high-born  knight 

Elina. 

[Who  has  been  listening  restlessly  in  the  direction  of  the 
hall,  seizes  his  arm  and  breaks  out  in  a  vehement  whisper.] 
Hush!     No  need  to  shout  so  loud;  I  can  hear  well! 

Biorn. 

[More  softly.]  Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  high- 
born knight,  of  whom  there  went  the  strange  report 

[Elina  half  rises,  and  listens  in  anxious  suspense  in 
the  direction  of  the  hall. 


ACT  I]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  81 

BlORN. 

Mistress  EHna, — what  ails  you  ? 

Elina. 
[Sits  down  again.]     Me  ?     Nothing,     Go  on. 

BlORN. 

Well,  as  I  was  saying — did  this  knight  but  look  straight 
in  a  woman's  eyes,  never  could  she  forget  it  after;  her 
thoughts  must  follow  him  wherever  he  went,  and  she 
must  waste  away  with  sorrow. 

Elina. 

I  have  heard  that  tale. — Moreover,  'tis  no  tale  you  are 
telling,  for  the  knight  you  speak  of  is  Nils  Lykke,  who 
sits  even  now  in  the  Council  of  Denmark 

BlORN. 

Maybe  so. 

Elina. 
Well,  let  it  pass — go  on! 

BlORN. 

Now  it  happened  once  on  a  time 

Elina. 
[Rises  suddenly.]     Hush;  be  still! 

BlORN. 

What  now  ?     What  is  the  matter  ? 


32  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

Elina. 

[Listening.]     Do  you  hear  ? 

BlORN. 

What? 

Elina. 

It  is  there!     Yes,  by  the  cross  of  Christ,  it  is  there! 

BlORN. 

[Rises.]     What  is  there  ?     Where  ? 

Elina. 

She  herself — in  the  hall 

[Goes  hastily  toioards  the  hall. 

BlORN. 

[Folloioing^  How  can  you  think —  ?  Mistress  Elina, 
— go  to  your  chamber! 

Elina. 

Hush;  stand  still!  Do  not  move;  do  not  let  her  see 
you!  Wait — the  moon  is  coming  out.  Can  you  not 
see  the  black-robed  figure ^ 

Biorn. 

By  all  the  saints ! 

Elina. 

Do  you  see — she  turns  Knut  Alfson's  picture  to  the 
wall.    Ha-ha;  be  sure  it  looks  her  too  straight  in  the  eyes! 

Biorn. 
Mistress  Elina,  hear  me! 


ACT  I]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  33 

Elina. 

[Going  hack  towards  the  fire  place. '\  Now  I  know  what 
I  know! 

BlORN. 

[To  himself. "l     Then  it  is  true! 

Elina. 
Who  was  it,  Biorn  ?     Who  w^as  it  ? 

BlORN. 

You  saw  as  plainly  as  I. 

Elina. 
Well  ?     Whom  did  I  see  ? 

Biorn. 
You  saw  your  mother. 

Elina. 

[Half  to  herself]  Night  after  night  I  have  heard  her 
steps  in  there.  I  have  heard  her  whispering  and  moan- 
ing like  a  soul  in  pain.  And  what  says  the  song — ? 
Ah,  now  I  know!     Now  I  know  that 

Biorn. 
Hush! 

[Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove  enters  rapidly  from  the 
hall,  without  noticing  the  others;  she  goes  to  tJie 
window,  draivs  the  curtain,  and  gazes  out  as  if 
ivatching  for  some  one  on  the  high  road;  after  a 
while,  she  turns  and  goes  slowly  back  into  the  hall. 


34  LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT  [act  i 

Elina. 

[Softly,  following  Iter  with  lier  eyes.]     White,  white  as 

the  dead ! 

[An  uproar  of  many  voices  is  heard  outside  the  door 
on  tJie  right. 

BlORN. 

What  can  this  be  ? 

Elina. 

Go  out  and  see  what  is  amiss. 

[EiNAR  HuK,  the  bailiff,  appears  in  the  anteroom, 
with  a  crowd  of  Retainers  and  Peasants. 

EiNAR  HuK. 

[In  the  doorway.]     Straight  in  to  her!     And  be  not 
abashed ! 

BlORN. 

What  seek  you  ? 

EiNAR   HuK. 

Lady  Inger  herself. 

BlORN. 

Lady  Inger .''     So  late  ? 

EiNAR  HuK. 
Late,  but  time  enough,  I  wot. 

The  Peasants. 

Yes,  yes;  she  must  hear  us  now! 

[TJie  whole  rabble  crowds  into  the  room.  At  the  same 
moment  Lady  Inger  appears  in  the  doorway  oftlie 
hall.     A  sudden  silence. 


ACT  I]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  35 

Lady  Inger. 
What  would  you  with  me  ? 

EiNAR   HUK. 

We  sought  you,  noble  lady,  to 


Lady  Inger. 
Well — say  on! 

EiNAR    HuK. 

Why,  we  are  not  ashamed  of  our  errand.     In  one  word 
— we  come  to  pray  you  for  weapons  and  leave 

Lady  Inger. 
Weapons  and  leave —  ?     And  for  what  ? 

EiNAR  HuK. 

There  has  come  a  rumour  from  Sweden  that  the  people 
of  the  Dales  have  risen  against  King  Gustav 

Lady  Inger. 
The  people  of  the  Dales  ? 

EiNAR    HuK. 

Ay,  so  the  tidings  run,  and  they  seem  sure  enough. 

Lady  Inger, 

Well — if  it  were  so — what  have  you  to  do  with  the 
Dale-folk's  rising  ? 

The  Peasants. 

We    will    join    them!     We    will    help!     We    will    free 
ourselves ! 


36  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

Lady  Inger. 
[To  herself.]     Can  the  time  be  come? 

EiNAR    HUK. 

From  all  our  borderlands  the  peasants  are  pouring 
across  to  the  Dales.  Even  outlaws  that  have  wandered 
for  years  in  the  mountains  are  venturing  down  to  the 
homesteads  again,  and  drawing  men  together,  and  whet- 
ting their  rusty  swords. 

Lady  Inger. 

[After  a  pause.]  Tell  me,  men — have  you  thought  well 
of  this  ?  Have  you  counted  the  cost,  if  King  Gustav's 
men  should  win .'' 

BlORN. 

[Softly  and  imploringly  to  Lady  Inger.]  Count  the 
cost  to  the  Danes  if  King  Gustav's  men  should  lose. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Evasively.]     That  reckoning  is  not  for  me  to  make. 

[Turns  to  the  people. 

You  know  that  King  Gustav  is  sure  of  help  from  Den- 
mark. King  Frederick  is  his  friend,  and  will  never  leave 
him  in  the  lurch 

Einar  Huk. 

But  if  the  people  were  now  to  rise  all  over  Norway's 
land  ? — if  we  all  rose  as  one  man,  nobles  and  peasants 
together  ? — Ay,  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove,  the  time  we  have 
waited  for  is  surely  come.  We  have  but  to  rise  now  to 
drive  the  strangers  from  the  land. 


ACT  I]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  37 

The  Peasants. 

Ay,  out  with  the  Danish  sheriffs!  Out  with  the  for- 
eign masters!     Out  with  the  Councillors'  lackeys! 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  herself.]  Ah,  there  is  metal  in  them;  and  vet, 
yet ! 

BlORN. 

[To  himself.]  She  is  of  two  minds.  [To  Elixa.] 
What  say  you  now.  Mistress  Elina — have  you  not  sinned 
in  misjudging  your  mother.'' 

Elina. 

Biorn — if  my  eyes  have  lied  to  me,  I  could  tear  them 
out  of  mv  head! 

Einar  Huk. 

See  you  not,  my  noble  lady.  King  Gustav  must  be 
dealt  with  first.  Were  h  i  s  power  once  gone,  the  Danes 
cannot  long  hold  this  land 

Lady  Inger. 
And  then? 

Einar  Huk. 

Then  we  shall  be  free.  We  shall  have  no  more  for- 
eign masters,  and  can  choose  ourselves  a  king,  as  the 
Swedes  have  done  before  us. 

Lady  Inger. 


[With  animation.]     A  king  for  ourselves!     Arc  you 

^  stock  ? 
Pronounce  StoorS. 


thinking  of  the  Sture^  stock  ? 


38  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

EiNAR    HUK. 

King  Christiern  and  others  after  him  have  swept  bare 
our  ancient  houses.  The  best  of  our  nobles  are  outlaws 
on  the  mountain  paths,  if  so  be  they  still  live.  Never- 
theless, it  might  still  be  possible  to  find  one  or  other 
shoot  of  the  old  stems 

Lady    Inger 

[Hastily.]  Enough,  Einar  Huk,  enough!  [To  her- 
self.]    Ah,  my  dearest  hope! 

[Turns  to  the  Peasants  and  Retainers. 

I  have  warned  you,  now,  as  well  as  I  can.  I  have  told 
you  how  great  is  the  risk  you  run.  But  if  you  are  fixed 
in  your  purpose,  'twere  folly  in  me  to  forbid  what  I  have 
no  power  to  prevent. 

EiNAR  Huk. 
Then  we  have  your  leave  to ? 

Lady  Inger. 

You  have  your  own  firm  will;  take  counsel  with  that. 
If  it  be  as  you  say,  that  you  are  daily  harassed  and  op- 
pressed      I  know  but  little  of  these  matters.     I  will 

not  know  more !  What  can  I,  a  lonely  woman —  ?  Even 
if  you  were  to  plunder  the  Banquet  Hall — and  there's 
many  a  good  weapon  on  the  walls — you  are  the  masters 
at  Ostrat  to-night.  You  must  do  as  seems  good  to  you. 
Good-night! 

[Loud  cries  of  joy  from  the  midtitude.     Candles  are 
lighted;  tJie  Retainers  hring  out  iveapons  of  dif- 
ferent kinds  from  the  Iiall. 


ACT  I]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  39 

BlORN. 

[Seizes  Lady  Inger's  hand  as  she  is  going.]  Thanks, 
my  noble  and  high-souled  mistress!  I,  that  have  known 
you  from  childhood  up — I  have  never  doubted  you. 

Lady  Inger. 

Hush,  Biorn — 'tis  a  dangerous  game  I  have  ventured 
this  night.  The  others  stake  only  their  lives;  but  I,  trust 
me,  a  thousandfold  more! 

Biorn. 

How  mean  you  ?  Do  you  fear  for  your  power  and 
your  favour  with ? 

Lady  Inger. 
My  power?     O  God  in  Heaven! 

A  Retainer. 

[Comes  from  the  hall  with  a  large  sword.]  See,  here's 
a  real  good  wolf's-tooth !  With  this  will  I  flay  the  blood- 
suckers' lackeys! 

EiNAR  HuK. 

[To  another^     What  is  that  you  have  found? 

The  Retainer. 
The  breastplate  they  call  Herlof  Hyttefad's. 

EiNAR  HuK. 

'Tis  too  good  for  such  as  you.  Look,  here  is  the  shaft 
of  Sten  Sture's^  lance;  hang  the  breastplate  upon  it,  and 
we  shall  have  the  noblest  standard  heart  can  desire. 

*  Pronounce  Stayn  Stoore. 


40  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

Finn. 

[Comes  from  the  door  on  tJie  left,  with  a  letter  in  his 
hand,  and  goes  towards  Lady  Inger.]  I  have  sought  you 
through  all  the  house 

Lady  Inger. 

What  would  you  ? 

Finn. 

[Hands  Jier  the  letter.]  A  messenger  is  come  from 
Trondhiem^  with  a  letter  for  you. 

Lady  Inger. 

Let  me  see !  [Opening  the  letter.]  From  Trondhiem  ? 
What  can  it  be?     [Runs  through  the  letter.]     O   God! 

From  him!    And  here  in  Norway 

[Reads  on  with  strong  emotion,  while  tlie  men  go  on 
bringing  out  arms  from  the  JmU. 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  herself]  He  is  coming  here.  He  is  coming  here 
to-night! — Ay,  then  'tis  with  our  wits  we  must  fight,  not 
with  the  sword. 

EiNAR  HuK. 

Enough,  enough,  good  fellows;  we  are  well  armed 
now.     Set  we  forth  now  on  our  way! 

Lady  Inger. 

[With  a  sudden  change  of  to7ie.]  No  man  shall  leave 
my  house  to-night! 

'  Pronounce  Tronyem. 


ACT  I]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  41 

EiNAR    HUK. 

But  the  wind  is  fair,  noble  lady;  'twill  take  us  quickly 
up  the  fiord,  and 

Lady  Inger. 
It  shall  be  as  I  have  said. 

EiNAR  HuK. 
Are  we  to  wait  till  to-morrow,  then  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

Till  to-morrow,  and  longer  still.     No  armed  man  shall 
go  forth  from  Ostrat  yet  awhile. 

[Signs  of  displeasure  among  the  croicd. 

Some  of  the  Peasants. 
We  will  go  all  the  same,  Lady  Inger! 

The  Cry  Spreads. 
Ay,  ay;  we  will  go! 

Lady  Inger. 

[Advancing  a  step  towards  them.]     Who  dares  to  move  ? 

[A  silence.     After  a  moment's  pause,  sJie  adds: 

I  have  thought  for  you.     What  do  you  common  folk 

know  of  the  country's  needs  ?     How  dare  you  judge  of 

such  things  ?     You  must  e'en  bear  your  oppressions  and 

burdens  yet  awhile.     Why  murmur  at  that,  when  you 

see  that  we,  your  leaders,  are  as  ill  bested  as  you  ? 

Take  all  the  weapons  back  to  the  hall.     You  shall  know 
my  further  will  hereafter.     Go! 

[The  Retainers  take  hack  the  arms,  and  the  whole 
crowd  then  withdraws  by  the  door  on  the  right. 


42  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

Elina. 

[Softly  to  BioRN.]     Say  you  still  that  I  have  sinned  in 
misjudging — the  Lady  of  Ostrat  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[Beckons  *,o  Biorn,  and  says.]  Have  a  guest-chamber 
ready. 

Biorn. 
It  is  well.  Lady  Inger! 

Lady  Inger. 
And  let  the  gate  be  open  to  whoever  shall  knock. 

Biorn. 
But ? 

Lady  Inger. 
The  gate  open! 

Biorn. 
The  gate  open.  [Goes  out  to  the  right. 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  Elina,  ivho  has  already  reached  the  door  on  the 
left.]  Stay  here! Elina — my  child — I  have  some- 
thing to  say  to  you  alone. 

Elina. 
I  hear  you. 

Lady  Inger. 
Elina you  think  evil  of  your  mother. 


ACT  I]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  43 

Elina. 

I  think,  to  my  sorrow,  what  your  deeds  have  forced 
me  to  think. 

Lady  Inger. 
And  you  answer  as  your  bitter  spirit  bids  you. 

Elina. 

Who  has  filled  my  spirit  with  bitterness  ?  From  my 
childhood  I  had  been  wont  to  look  up  to  you  as  a  great 
and  high-souled  woman.  'Twas  in  your  likeness  that  I 
pictured  the  women  of  the  chronicles  and  the  Book  of 
Heroes.  I  thought  the  Lord  God  himself  had  set  his 
seal  on  your  brow,  and  marked  you  out  as  the  leader 
of  the  helpless  and  the  oppressed.  Knights  and  nobles 
sang  your  praise  in  the  feast-hall;  and  even  the  peasants, 
far  and  near,  called  you  the  country's  pillar  and  its  hope. 
All  thought  that  through  you  the  good  times  were  to 
come  again!  All  thought  that  through  you  a  new  day 
was  to  dawn  over  the  land!  The  night  is  still  here; 
and  I  scarce  know  if  through  you  I  dare  look  for  any 
morning. 

Lady  Inger. 

'Tis  easy  to  see  whence  you  have  learnt  such  venom- 
ous words.  You  have  let  yourself  give  ear  to  what  the 
thoughtless  rabble  mutters  and  murmurs  about  things  it 
can  little  judge  of. 

Elina. 

"Truth  is  in  the  people's  mouth,"  was  your  word  when 
they  praised  you  in  speech  and  song. 


44  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

Lady  Inger. 

Maybe  so.  But  if  indeed  I  chose  to  sit  here  idle, 
though  it  was  my  part  to  act — think  you  not  that  such 
a  choice  were  burden  enough  for  me,  without  your  add- 
ing to  its  weight  ? 

Elina. 

The  weight  I  add  to  your  burden  crushes  me  no  less 
than  you.  Lightly  and  freely  I  drew  the  breath  of  life, 
so  long  as  I  had  you  to  believe  in.  For  my  pride  is  my 
life;  and  well  might  I  have  been  proud,  had  you  remained 
what  once  you  were. 

Lady  Inger. 

And  what  proves  to  you  that  I  have  not .'  Elina — 
how  know  you  so  surely  that  you  are  not  doing  your 
mother  wrong  "^ 

Elina. 

\y ehemently \     Oh,  that  I  were! 

Lady  Inger. 

Peace!  You  have  no  right  to  call  your  mother  to  ac- 
count.— With  a  single  word  I  could ;  but  'twould  be 

an  ill  word  for  you  to  hear;  you  must  await  what  time 
shall  bring;  maybe  that 

Elina. 
\Turns  to  go.^     Sleep  well,  my  mother f 

Lady  Inger. 

[Hesitates^  Nay — stay  with  me;  I  have  still  some- 
what  Come  nearer; — you  must  hear  me,  Elina! 

\Sits  down  by  the  table  in  front  of  the  windoiv. 


ACT  I]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  45 

Elina. 
I  hear  you. 

Lady  Inger. 

For  as  silent  as  you  are,  I  know  well  that  you  often 
long  to  be  gone  from  here.  Ostrat  is  too  lonely  and  life- 
less for  you. 

Elina. 
Do  you  wonder  at  that,  my  mother  ? 

Lady  Inger. 


It  rests  with  you  whether  all  this  shall  henceforth  be 

Elina. 


changed 


How  so? 

Lady  Inger. 
Listen. — I  look  for  a  guest  to-night. 

Elina. 
[Comes  nearer.]     A  guest  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

A  guest,  who  must  remain  a  stranger  to  all.  None 
must  know  whence  he  comes  or  whither  he  goes. 

« 

Elina. 

[Throivs  herself,  with  a  cry  of  joy,  at  her  mother's  feet, 
and  seizes  her  hands.]  My  mother!  My  mother!  For- 
give me,  if  you  can,  all  the  wrong  I  have  done  you! 


46  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [acti 

Lady  Inger. 

What  do  you  mean  ?  Elina,  I  do  not  understand 
you. 

Elina. 

Then  they  were  all  deceived!  You  are  still  true  at 
heart ! 

Lady  Ingeb. 
Rise,  rise  and  tell  me 

Elina. 
Think  you  I  do  not  know  who  the  stranger  is? 

Lady  Inger. 
You  know  ?     And  yet ? 

Elina. 

Think  you  the  gates  of  Ostrat  shut  so  close  that  never 
a  whisper  of  the  country's  woe  can  slip  through  them  ? 
Think  you  I  do  not  know  that  the  heir  of  many  a  noble 
line  wanders  outlawed,  without  rest  or  shelter,  while 
Danish  masters  lord  it  in  the  home  of  his  fathers  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
And  what  then  ? 

Elina. 

I  know  well  that  many  a  high-born  knight  is  hunted 
through  the  woods  like  a  hungry  wolf.  No  hearth  has 
he  to  rest  by,  no  bread  to  eat 


ACT  I]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  47 

Lady  Inger. 
[Coldly.]     Enough!     Now  I  understand  you. 

Elina. 

[Continuing.]  And  that  is  why  the  gates  of  Ostrat 
must  stand  open  by  night!  That  is  why  he  must  remain 
a  stranger  to  all,  this  guest  of  whom  none  must  know 
whence  he  comes  or  whither  he  goes!  You  are  setting 
at  naught  the  harsh  decree  that  forbids  you  to  harbour 
or  succour  the  outlaw 

Lady  Inger. 
Enough,  I  say! 

[After  a  short  silence,  adds  with  an  effort: 
You  mistake,  Elina — 'tis  no  outlaw  I  look  for. 

Elina. 
[Rises.]     Then  I  have  understood  you  ill  indeed. 

Lady  Inger. 

Listen  to  me,  my  child;  but  think  as  you  listen;  if 
indeed  you  can  tame  that  wild  spirit  of  yours. 

Elina. 
I  am  tame,  till  you  have  spoken. 

Lady  Inger. 

Attend,  then,  to  what  I  have  to  tell  you. — I  have 
sought,  so  far  as  lay  in  my  power,  to  keep  you  in  igno- 
rance of  all  our  griefs  and  miseries.     What  could  it  avail 


48  LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

to  fill  your  young  heart  with  wrath  and  care  ?  'Tis  not 
women's  weeping  and  wailing  that  can  deliver  us;  we 
need  the  courage  and  strength  of  men. 

Elina. 

Who  has  told  you  that,  when  courage  and  strength 
are  needed,  I  shall  be  found  wanting  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
Hush,  child; — I  might  take  you  at  your  word. 

Elina. 
How  mean  you,  my  mother.'' 

Lady  Inger. 

I  might  call  on  you  for  both;  I  might ;  but  let  me 

say  my  say  out  first. 

Know  then  that  the  time  seems  now  to  be  drawing 
nigh,  towards  which  the  Danish  Council  have  been  work- 
ing  for  many  a  year — the  time,  I  mean,  for  them  to 
strike  the  last  blow  at  our  rights  and  our  freedom. 
Therefore  must  we  now 

Elina. 
[Eagerly.]     Openly  rebel,  my  mother? 

Lady  Inger. 

No;  we  must  gain  breathing-time.  The  Council  is 
now  assembled  at  Copenhagen,  considering  how  best  to 
go  to  work.  Most  of  them  hold,  'tis  said,  that  there  can 
be  no  end  to  dissensions  till  Norway  and  Denmark  are 
one;  for  should  we  still  possess  our  rights  as  a  free  land 


ACT  I]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  49 

when  the  time  comes  to  choose  the  next  king,  'tis  most 
like  that  the  feud  will  break  out  openly.  Now  the  Danish 
councillors  would  hinder  this 

Elina. 

Ay,  they  would  hinder  it—!  But  are  we  to  endure 
such  things  ?     Are  we  to  look  on  quietly  while ? 

Lady  Inger. 

No,  we  will  not  endure  it.  But  to  take  up  arms — to 
declare  open  w^ar — what  would  come  of  that,  so  long  as 
we  are  not  united  ?  And  were  we  ever  less  united  in 
this  land  than  we  are  even  now  ? — No,  if  aught  is  to  be 
accomplished,  it  must  be  secretly  and  in  silence.  Even 
as  I  said,  we  must  have  time  to  draw  breath.  In  the 
South,  a  good  part  of  the  nobles  are  for  the  Dane;  but 
here  in  the  North  they  are  still  in  doubt.  Therefore  has 
King  Frederick  sent  hither  one  of  his  most  trusted  coun- 
cillors, to  assure  himself  with  his  own  eyes  how  we  stand 
affected. 

Elina. 

[In  suspense.]     Well — and  then ? 

Lady  Inger. 
He  is  the  guest  I  look  for  to-night. 

Elina. 

He  comes  hither.'     And  to-night? 

Lady  Inger. 

A  trading  ship  brought  him  to  Trondhiem  yesterday. 
News  has  just  reached  me  of  his  approach;  he  may  be 
here  within  the  hour. 


50  LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT  [acti 

Elina. 

And  you  do  not  bethink  you,  my  mother,  how  'twill 
endanger  your  fame  thus  to  receive  the  Danish  envoy? 
Do  not  the  people  already  look  on  you  with  distrustful 
eyes  ?  How  can  you  hope  that,  when  the  time  comes, 
they  will  let  you  rule  and  guide  them,  if  it  be  known 

that 

Lady  Inger. 

Fear  not.  All  this  I  have  fully  weighed;  but  there  is 
no  danger.  His  errand  in  Norway  is  a  secret;  he  has 
come  unknown  to  Trondhiem,  and  unknown  shall  he  be 
our  guest  at  Ostrat. 

Elina. 
And  the  name  of  this  Danish  lord ? 

Lady  Inger. 

It  sounds  well,  Elina;  Denmark  has  scarce  a  nobler 
name. 

Elina. 

But  what  then  do  you  purpose  ?     I  cannot  yet  grasp 
meaning. 

Lady  Inger. 


your e, 


You  will  soon  understand. — Since  we  cannot  trample 
on  the  serpent,  we  must  bind  it. 

Elina. 
Take  heed  that  it  burst  not  your  bonds. 

Lady  Inger. 
It  rests  with  you  to  tighten  them  as  you  will. 


ACT  I]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  51 

Elina. 
With  me  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

I  have  long  seen  that  Ostrat  is  as  a  cage  to  you.  The 
young  falcon  chafes  behind  the  iron  bars. 

Elina. 

My  wings  are  clipped.  Even  if  you  set  me  free — 
'twould  avail  me  little. 

Lady  Inger. 
Your  wings  are  not  clipped,  save  by  your  own  will. 

Elina. 

Will  ?  My  will  is  in  your  hands.  Be  what  you  once 
were,  and  I  too 

Lady  Inger. 

Enough,  enough.  Hear  me  further. — It  would  scarce 
break  your  heart  to  leave  Ostrat  ? 

Elina. 
Maybe  not,  my  mother! 

Lady  Inger. 

You  told  me  once,  that  you  lived  your  happiest  life  in 
your  tales  and  histories.  What  if  that  life  were  to  be 
yours  once  more  ? 

Elina. 
What  mean  you  ? 


52  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

Lady  Inger. 

Elina — if  a  mighty  noble  were  to  come  and  lead  you  to 
his  castle,  where  you  should  find  damsels  and  squires, 
silken  robes  and  lofty  halls  awaiting  you  ? 

Elina. 
A  noble,  you  say  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
A  noble. 

Elina. 

[More  softly.]  And  the  Danish  envoy  comes  hither 
to-night  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
To-night. 

Elina. 

If  so  be,  then  I  fear  to  read  the  meaning  of  your  words. 

Lady  Inger. 

There  is  naught  to  fear  if  you  misread  them  not.  It 
is  far  from  my  thought  to  put  force  upon  you.  You  shall 
choose  for  yourself  in  this  matter,  and  follow  your  own 
rede. 

Elina. 

[Comes  a  step  nearer.]  Know  you  the  tale  of  the 
mother  who  drove  across  the  hills  by  night,  with  her 
little  children  in  the  sledge  ?  The  wolves  were  on  her 
track;  'twas  life  or  death  with  her; — and  one  by  one  she 
cast  out  her  little  ones,  to  win  time  and  save  herself. 


ACT  I]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  53 

Lady  Inger. 

Nursery  tales!  A  mother  would  tear  the  heart  from 
her  breast  before  she  would  cast  her  child  to  the  wolves! 

Elina. 

Were  I  not  my  mother's  daughter,  I  would  say  you 
were  right.  But  you  are  like  that  mother;  one  by  one 
have  you  cast  out  your  daughters  to  the  wolves.  The 
eldest  went  first.  Five  years  ago  Merete^  went  forth 
from  Ostrat;  now  she  dwells  in  Bergen,  and  is  Vinzents 
Lunge's"  wife.  But  think  you  she  is  happy  as  the 
Danish  noble's  ladv  "^  Vinzents  Lung-e  is  mightv,  well- 
nigh  as  a  king;  Merete  has  damsels  and  squires,  silken 
robes  and  lofty  halls;  but  the  day  has  no  sunshine  for 
her,  and  the  night  no  rest;  for  she  has  never  loved  him. 
He  came  hither  and  he  wooed  her,  for  she  was  the  great- 
est  heiress  in  Norway,  and  'twas  then  needful  for  him 
to  gain  a  footing  in  the  land.  I  know  it;  I  know  it  well! 
Merete  bowed  to  your  will;  she  went  with  the  stranger 
lord. — But  what  has  it  cost  her.?  More  tears  than  a 
mother  should  wish  to  answer  for  at  the  day  of  reck- 
oning! 

Lady  Inger. 
I  know  my  reckoning,  and  I  fear  it  not. 

Elina. 

Your  reckoning  ends  not  here.  Where  is  Lucia,  your 
second  child  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

Ask  God,  who  took  her. 

^  Pronounce  Mayrayte.  ^  Pronounce  LoongJii. 


54  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

Elina. 

'Tis  you  I  ask;  'tis  you  must  answer  for  her  young  life. 
She  was  glad  as  a  bird  in  spring  when  she  sailed  from 
Ostrat  to  be  Merete's  guest.  A  year  passed,  and  she 
stood  in  this  room  once  more;  but  her  cheeks  were  white, 
and  death  had  gnawed  deep  into  her  breast.  Ah,  I 
startle  you,  my  mother!  You  thought  the  ugly  secret 
was  buried  with  her; — but  she  told  me  all.  A  courtly 
knight  had  won  her  heart.  He  would  have  wedded  her. 
You  knew  that  her  honour  was  at  stake;  yet  your  will 
never  bent — and  your  child  had  to  die.  You  see,  I  know 
all! 

Lady  Inger. 
All  ?     Then  she  told  you  his  name  ? 

Elina. 

His  name?  No;  his  name  she  did  not  tell  me.  She 
shrank  from  his  name  as  though  it  stung  her; — she  never 
uttered  it. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Relieved,  to  herself.]     Ah,  then  you  do  not  know  all 


Elina — 'tis  true  that  the  whole  of  this  matter  was  well 
known  to  me.  But  there  is  one  thing  it  seems  you  have 
overlooked.     The  lord  whom  Lucia  met  in  Bergen  was 


a  Dane 

Elina. 
That,  too,  I  know. 

Lady  Inger. 

And  his  love  was  a  lie.     With  guile  and  soft  speeches 
he  had  ensnared  her. 


ACT  I]         LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT  55 

Elina. 

I  know  it;  but  nevertheless  she  loved  him;  and  had 
you  had  a  mother's  heart,  your  daughter's  honour  had 
been  more  to  you  than  all. 

Lady  Inger. 

Not  more  than  her  happiness.  Think  you  that,  with 
Merete's  lot  before  my  eyes,  I  could  sacrifice  my  second 
child  to  a  man  that  loved  her  not  ? 

Elina. 

Cunning  words  may  beguile  many,  but  they  beguile 
not  me 

Think  not  I  know  nothing  of  all  that  is  passing  in 
our  land  ?  I  understand  your  counsels  but  too  well.  I 
know  that  in  you  the  Danish  lords  have  no  true  friend. 
It  may  be  that  you  hate  them;  but  you  fear  them  too. 
When  you  gave  Merete  to  Vinzents  Lunge,  the  Danes 
held  the  mastery  on  all  sides  throughout  our  land.  Three 
years  later,  when  you  forbade  Lucia  to  wed  the  man  to 
whom,  though  he  had  deceived  her,  she  had  given  her 
life — things  were  far  different  then.  The  King's  Danish 
governors  had  shamefully  misused  the  common  people, 
and  you  deemed  it  not  wise  to  link  yourself  still  more 
closely  to  the  foreign  tyrants. 

And  what  have  you  done  to  avenge  her  that  was  sent 
so  young  to  her  grave  ?  You  have  done  nothing.  Well 
then,  I  will  act  in  your  stead;  I  will  avenge  all  the  shame 
they  have  brought  upon  our,  people  and  our  house! 

Lady  Inger. 
You  ?     What  will  you  do  ? 


56  LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

Elina. 

I  will  go  my  way,  even  as  you  go  yours.  What  I 
shall  do  I  myself  know  not;  but  I  feel  within  me  the 
strength  to  dare  all  for  our  righteous   cause. 

Lady  Inger. 

Then  have  you  a  hard  fight  before  you.  I  once 
promised  as  you  do  now — and  my  hair  has  grown  grey 
under  the  burden  of  that  promise. 

Elina. 

Good-night!  Your  guest  will  soon  be  here,  and  at 
that  meeting  I  should  be  one  too  many. 

It  may  be  there  is  yet  time  for  you ;    well,  God 

strengthen  and  guide  you  on  your  path!  Forget  not 
that  the  eyes  of  many  thousands  are  fixed  on  you. 
Think  on  Merete,  weeping  late  and  early  over  her  wasted 
life.     Think  on  Lucia,  sleeping  in  her  black  coffin. 

And  one  thing  more.  Forget  not  that  in  the  game 
you  play  this  night,  your  stake  is  your  last  child. 

[Goes  out  to  the  left. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Looks  after  her  aichile.]     My  last  child  ?     You  know 

not  how  true  was  that  word But  the  stake  is  not 

my  child  only.  God  help  me,  I  am  playing  to-night  for 
the  whole  of  Norway's  land. 

Ah — is  not  that  some  one  riding  through  the  gateway .'' 

[Listens  at  the  window. 

No;  not  yet.  Only  the  wind;  it  blows  cold  as  the 
grave 

Has  God  a  right  to  do  this  ? — To  make  me  a  woman 
— and  then  to  lay  on  my  shoulders  a  man's  work.' 


ACT  I]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  57 

For  I  h  a  V  e  the  welfare  of  the  country  in  my  hands. 
It  i  s  in  my  power  to  make  tliem  rise  as  one  man.  They 
look  to  m  e  for  the  signal ;  and  if  I  give  it  not  now — 
it  may  never  be  given. 

To  delay  ?     To  sacrifice  the  many  for  the  sake  of  one  ? 

Were  it  not  better  if  I  could ?     No,  no,  no — I  will 

not!     I  cannot! 

\Steals  a  glance  totvards  the  Banquet  Hall,  but  turns 
away  again  as  if  in  dread,  and  whispers: 
I  can  see  them   in  there  now.     Pale  spectres — dead 
ancestors — fallen  kinsfolk. — Ah,  those  eyes  that  pierce 
me  from  every  corner! 

[Makes  a  gesture  of  repidsion,  and  cries: 
Sten  Sture!     Knut  Alfson!     Olaf  Skaktavl!     Back — • 
back! — I  cannot  do  this! 

[A  Stranger,  strongly  built,  and  with  grizzled  hair 
and  beard,  has  entered  from  the  Banquet  Hall.  He 
is  dressed  in  a  torn  laTnbskin  tunic;  his  weapons 
are  rusty. 

The  Stranger. 

[Stops  in  the  doorway,  and  says  in  a  low  voice.]  Hail 
to  you,  Inger  Gyldenlove! 

Lady  Inger. 

[Turns  with  a  scream.]  Ah,  Christ  in  heaven  save 
me! 

[Falls  back  into  a  chair.  The  Stranger  stands  gaz- 
ing at  her,  motionless,  leaning  on  his  sword. 


ACT  SECOND 

The  room  at  Ostrat,  as  in  the  first  Act. 

Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove  is  seated  at  the  table  on  the 
right,  by  the  window.  Olaf  Skaktavl  is  standing 
a  little  way  from  her.  Their  faces  show  that  they 
have  been  engaged  in  a  heated  discussion. 

Olaf  Skaktavl, 

For  the  last  time,  Inger  Gyldenlove — you  are  not  to 
be  moved  from  your  purpose  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

I  can  do  nought  else.  And  my  counsel  to  you  is:  do 
as  I  do.  If  it  be  Heaven's  will  that  Norway  perish  utter- 
ly, perish  it  must,  for  all  we  may  do  to  save  it. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

x\nd  think  you  I  can  content  my  heart  with  that  be- 
lief ?  Shall  I  sit  and  look  idly  on,  now  that  the  hour  is 
come  ?  Do  you  forget  the  reckoning  I  have  against 
them  ?  They  have  robbed  me  of  my  lands,  and  par- 
celled them  out  among  themselves.  My  son,  my  only 
child,  the  last  of  my  race,  they  have  slaughtered  like  a 
dog.  Myself  they  have  outlawed  and  hunted  through 
forest  and  fell  these  twenty  years. — Once  and  again 
have  folk  whispered  of  my  death;  but  this  I  believe, 

58 


ACT  II]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  59 

that  they  shall  not  lay  me  beneath  the  sod  before  I  have 
seen  my  vengeance. 

Lady  Inger. 

Then  is  there  a  long  life  before  you.  What  have  vou 
in  mind  to  do  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Do  ?  How  should  I  know  what  I  will  do  ?  It  has 
never  been  my  part  to  plot  and  plan.  That  is  where 
you  must  help  me.  You  have  the  wit  for  that.  I  have 
but  my  sword  and  my  two  arms. 

Lady  Inger. 

Your  sword  is  rusted,  Olaf  Skaktavl!  All  the  swords 
in  Norway  are  rusted. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

That  is  doubtless  why  some  folk  fight  only  with  their 
tongues. — Inger  Gyldenlove — great  is  the  change  in  you. 
Time  was  when  the  heart  of  a  man  beat  in  your  breast. 

Lady  Inger. 
Put  me  not  in  mind  of  what  was. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

'Tis  for  that  very  purpose  I  am  here.  You  shall 
hear  me,  even  if 

Lady  Inger. 

Be  it  so  then;  but  be  brief;  for — I  must  say  it — this  is 
no  place  of  safety  for  you. 


60  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Ostrat  is  no  place  of  safety  for  an  outlaw  ?  That  I 
have  long  known.  But  you  forget  that  an  outlaw  is 
unsafe  wheresoever  he  mav  wander. 

Lady  Inger. 
Speak  then;  I  will  not  hinder  you. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

'Tis  niffh  on  thirty  years  now  since  first  I  saw  you.  It 
was  at  Akershus^  in  the  house  of  Knut  Alfson  and  his 
wife.  You  were  little  more  than  a  child  then;  yet  were 
you  bold  as  the  soaring  falcon,  and  wild  and  headstrong 
too  at  times.  Many  were  the  wooers  around  you.  I 
too  held  you  dear — dear  as  no  woman  before  or  since. 
But  you  cared  for  nothing,  thought  of  nothing,  save  your 
country's  evil  case  and  its  great  need. 

Lady  Inger. 

I  counted  but  fifteen  summers  then — remember  that! 
And  was  it  not  as  though  a  frenzy  had  seized  us  all  in 
those  days .'' 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Call  it  what  you  will;  but  one  thing  I  know — even 
the  old  and  sober  men  among  us  thought  it  written  in 
the  counsels  of  the  Lord  on  high  that  you  were  she 
who  should  break  our  thraldom  and  win  us  all  our 
rights  again.  And  more:  you  yourself  then  thought  as 
we  did. 

'  Pronounce  Ahkers-hoos. 


ACT  II]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  61 

Lady  Inger, 

'Twas  a  sinful  thought,  Olaf  Skaktavl.  'Twas  my 
proud  heart,  and  not  the  Lord's  call,  that  spoke  in  me. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

You  could  have  been  the  chosen  one  had  vou  but 
willed  it.  You  came  of  the  noblest  blood  in  Norwav; 
power  and  riches  were  soon  to  be  yours;  and  you  had  an 
ear  for  the  cries  of  anguish — then! 

Do  you  remember  that  afternoon  when  Henrik  Krum- 
medike  and  the  Danish  fleet  anchored  off  Akershus? 
The  captains  of  the  fleet  offered  terms  of  peace,  and, 
trusting  to  the  safe-conduct,  Knut  Alfson  rowed  on 
board.  Three  hours  later,  we  bore  him  through  the 
castle  gate 

Lady  Inger. 

A  corpse;  a  corpse! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

The  best  heart  in  Norway  burst,  when  Krummedike's 
hirelings  struck  him  down.  Methinks  I  still  can  see 
the  long  procession  that  passed  into  the  Banquet  Hall, 
heavily,  two  by  two.  There  he  lay  on  his  bier,  white 
as  a  spring  cloud,  with  the  axe-cleft  in  his  brow.  I  may 
safelv  sav  that  the  boldest  men  in  Norwav  were  gathered 
there  that  night.  Lady  Margrete  stood  by  her  dead 
husband's  head,  and  we  swore  as  one  man  to  venture 
lands  and  life  to  avenge  this  last  misdeed  and  all  that 
had  gone  before. — Inger  Gyldenlove, — who  was  it  that 
burst  through  the  circle  of  men  ?     A  maiden — almost  a 


62  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

child — with  fire  in  her  eyes  and  her  voice  half  choked 
with  tears. — What  was  it  she  swore  ?  Shall  I  repeat 
your  words  ?  ^ 

Lady  Inger. 

I   swore   what  the   rest  of  you  swore;   neither  more 
nor  less. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
You   remember  your   oath — and   yet   you   have   for- 


gotten it. 


Lady  Inger. 


And  how  did  the  others  keep  their  promise  ?  I  speak 
not  of  you,  Olaf  Skaktavl,  but  of  your  friends,  all  Nor- 
way's nobles  ?  Not  one  of  them,  in  all  these  years,  has 
had  the  courage  to  be  a  man ;  yet  they  lay  it  to  my  charge 
that  I  am  a  woman. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

I  know  what  you  would  say.  Why  have  they  bent 
to  the  yoke,  and  not  defied  the  tyrants  to  the  last  ?  'Tis 
but  too  true;  there  is  base  metal  enough  in  our  noble 
houses  nowadays.  But  had  they  held  together — who 
knows  what  then  might  have  been  ?  And  you  could 
have  held  them  together,  for  before  you  all  had  bowed. 

Lady  Inger. 

My  answer  were  easy  enough,  but  'twould  scarce  con- 
tent you.  So  let  us  leave  speaking  of  what  cannot  be 
changed.  Tell  me  rather  what  has  brought  you  to 
Ostrjit.  Do  you  need  harbour?  Well,  I  will  try  to 
hide  you.  If  you  would  have  aught  else,  speak  out;  you 
shall  find  me  ready 


ACT  II]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  63 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

For  twenty  years  have  I  been  homeless.  In  the  moun- 
tains of  Jaemteland  my  hair  has  grown  grey.  My  dwell- 
ing has  been  with  wolves  and  bears. — You  see,  Lady 
Inger — /  need  you  not;  but  both  nobles  and  people  stand 
in  sore  need  of  you. 

Lady  Ingek. 
The  old  burden. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Ay,  it  sounds  but  ill  in  your  ears,  I  know;  yet  hear 
it  you  must,  for  all  that.  In  brief,  then:  I  come  from 
Sweden:  troubles  are  brewing:  the  Dales  are  ready  to 
rise. 

Lady  Inger. 
I  know  it. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Peter  Kanzler^  is  with  us — secretly,  you  understand. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Starting.]     Peter  Kanzler.^ 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
'Tis  he  that  has  sent  me  to  Ostrat. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Rises.]     Peter  Kanzler,  say  you  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

He  himself; — but  mayhap  you  no  longer  know  him  ? 
*  That  is,  Peter  the  Chancellor. 


64  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Lady  Inger. 

[Half  to  herself.]  Only  too  well ! — But  tell  me,  I  pray 
you, — what  message  do  you  bring? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

When  the  rumour  of  the  rising  reached  the  border 
mountains,  where  I  then  was,  I  set  off  at  once  into  Swe- 
den. 'Twas  not  hard  to  guess  that  Peter  Kanzler  had 
a  finger  in  the  game.  I  sought  him  out  and  offered  to 
stand  by  him; — he  knew  me  of  old,  as  you  know,  and 
knew  that  he  could  trust  me;  so  he  has  sent  me  hither. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Impatiently.']     Yes,  yes, — he  sent  you  hither  to ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

\\\^it}i  secrecy.]  Lady  Inger — a  stranger  comes  to 
Ostrat  to-night. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Surprised.]     What.^     Know  you  that ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Assuredly  I  know  it.  I  know  all.  'Twas  to  meet 
him  that  Peter  Kanzler  sent  me  hither. 

Lady  Inger. 

To  meet  him  ?  Impossible,  Olaf  Skaktavl, — impos- 
sible. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

'Tis  as  I  tell  you.  If  he  be  not  already  come,  he  will 
soon 


ACT  II]        LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT  65 

Lady  Inger. 
Doubtless,  doubtless;  but 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Then  you  knew  of  his  coming  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

Ay,  surely.     He  sent  me  a  message.     'Twas  therefore 
they  opened  to  you  as  soon  as  you  knocked. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[Listeyis.]     Hush! — some  one  is  riding  along  the  road. 
[Goes  to  the  window.]     They  are  opening  the  gate. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Looks  out.]     It  is  a  knight  and  his  attendant.     They 
are  dismounting  in  the  courtyard. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
'Tis  he,  then.     His  name.? 

Lady  Inger. 
You  know  not  his  name  } 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Peter  Kanzler  refused  to  tell  it  me.  He  would  say  no 
more  than  that  I  should  find  him  at  Ostrat  the  third 
evening  after  Martinmas 

Lady  Inger. 
Ay;  even  to-night. 


66  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

He  was  to  bring  letters  with  him;  and  from  them,  and 
from  you,  I  was  to  learn  who  he  is. 

Lady  Inger. 

Then  let  me  lead  you  to  your  chamber.  You  have 
need  of  rest  and  refreshment.  You  shall  soon  have 
speech  with  the  stranger. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Well,  be  it  as  you  will,  [Both  go  out  to  the  left. 

[After  a  short  pause,  Finn  enters  cautiously  by  the 
door  on  the  right,  looks  round  the  room,  and  -peeps 
into  the  Banquet  Hall;  he  tJien  goes  hack  to  the 
door,  and  makes  a  sign  to  some  one  outside.  Im- 
mediately after,  enter  Councillor  Nils  Lykke 
and  the  Swedish  Commander,  Jens  Bielke. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Softly.]     No  one  ? 

Finn. 
[In  the  same  tone.]     No  one,  master! 

Nils  Lykke. 
And  we  may  depend  on  you  in  all  things  ? 

Finn. 

The  commandant  in  Trondhiem  has  ever  given  me 
a  name  for  trustiness.   . 


ACT  II]         LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT  67 

Nils  Lykke. 

'Tis  well;  he  has  said  as  much  to  me.  First  of  all, 
then — has  there  come  any  stranger  to  Ostrat  to-night, 
before  us  ? 

Finn. 

Ay;  a  stranger  came  an  hour  since. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Softly,  to  Jens  Bielke.]  He  is  here.  [Turns  again 
to  Finn.]  Would  you  know  him  again  ?  Have  you 
seen  him  ? 

Finn. 

Nay,  none  has  seen  him,  that  I  know,  but  the  gate- 
keeper. He  was  brought  at  once  to  Lady  Inger,  and 
she 

Nils  Lykke. 

Well  ?     What  of  her  ?     He  is  not  gone  again  already  ? 

Finn. 

No;  but  it  seems  she  holds  him  hidden  in  one  of  her 
own  rooms;  for 

Nils  Lykke. 
It  is  well. 

Jens  Bielke. 

[IF/mpers.]  Then  the  first  thing  is  to  put  a  guard  on 
the  gate;  so  are  we  sure  of  him. 


68  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Nils  Lykke. 

[With  a  smile.]  H'm!  [To  Finn.]  Tell  me— is  there 
any  way  of  leaving  the  castle,  save  by  the  gate  ?  Gape 
not  at  me  so !  I  mean — can  one  escape  from  Ostrat  un- 
seen, though  the  castle  gate  be  barred  ? 

Finn. 

Nay,  that  I  know  not.  'Tis  true  they  talk  of  secret 
ways  in  the  vaults  beneath;  but  no  one  knows  them  save 
Lady  Inger — and  mayhap  Mistress  Elina. 

Jens  Bielke. 
The  devil! 

Nils  Lykke. 

It  is  well.     You  may  go. 

Finn. 

Should  you  need  me  in  aught  again,  you  have  but  to 
open  the  second  door  on  the  right  in  the  Banquet  Hall, 
and  I  shall  presently  be  at  hand. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Good.        [Points  to  the  entrance-door.     Finn  goes  out. 

Jens  Bielke. 

Now,  by  my  soul,  dear  friend  and  brother — this  cam- 
paign is  like  to  end  but  scurvily  for  both  of  us. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[With  a  smile.]     Oh — not  for  me,  I  hope. 


ACT  II]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  69 

Jens  Bielke, 

Say  you  so?  First  of  all,  there  is  little  honour  to  be 
won  in  hunting  an  overgrown  whelp  like  this  Nils  Sture. 
Are  we  to  think  him  mad  or  in  his  sober  senses  after  the 
pranks  he  has  played  ?  First  he  breeds  bad  blood  among 
the  peasants;  promises  them  help  and  all  their  hearts  can 
desire;— and  then,  when  it  comes  to  the  pinch,  off  he  runs 
to  hide  behind  a  petticoat! 

Moreover,  to  say  truth,  I  repent  that  I  followed  your 
counsel  and  went  not  my  own  way. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[To  himself.]  Your  repentance  comes  somewhat  late, 
my  brother! 

Jens  Bielke. 

For,  let  me  tell  you,  I  have  never  loved  digging  at  a 
badger's  earth.  I  looked  for  quite  other  sport.  Here 
have  I  ridden  all  the  way  from  Jaemteland  with  my 
horsemen,  and  have  got  me  a  warrant  from  the  Trond- 
hiem  commandant  to  search  for  the  rebel  wheresoever  I 
please.     All  his  tracks  point  towards  Ostrat 

Nils  Lykke. 
He  is  here!     He  is  here,  I  tell  you! 

Jens  Bielke. 

Were  it  not  liker,  in  that  case,  that  we  had  found  the 
gate  barred  and  well  guarded?  Would  that  we  had; 
then  could  I  have  found  use  for  my  men-at-arms 


70  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  ii 

Nils  Lykke. 

But  instead,  the  gate  is  very  courteously  thrown  open 
to  us.  Mark  now — if  Inger  Gyldenlove's  fame  beUe  her 
not,  I  warrant  she  will  not  let  her  guests  lack  for  either 
meat  or  drink. 

Jens  Bielke. 

Ay,  to  turn  aside  from  our  errand!  And  what  wild 
whim  was  that  of  yours  to  have  me  leave  my  horsemen 
half  a  league  from  the  castle !     Had  we  come  in  force 

Nils  Lykke. 

She  had  made  us  none  the  less  welcome  for  that. 
But  mark  well  that  then  our  coming  had  made  a  stir. 
The  peasants  round  about  had  held  it  for  an  outrage 
against  Lady  Inger;  she  had  risen  high  in  their  favour 
once  more — and  with  that,  look  you,  we  were  ill  served. 

Jens  Bielke. 

Maybe  so.  But  what  am  I  to  do  now  ?  Count 
Sture  is  in  Ostrat,  you  say.  Ay,  but  how  does  that  profit 
me  ^  Be  sure  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove  has  as  many  hid- 
ing-places as  the  fox,  and  more  than  one  outlet  to  them. 
You  and  I,  alone,  may  go  snuffing  about  here  as  long  as 
we  please.     I  would  the  devil  had  the  whole  affair! 

Nils  Lykke. 

Well,  then,  my  friend — if  you  like  not  the  turn  your 
errand  has  taken,  you  have  but  to  leave  the  field  to  me. 

Jens  Bielke. 
To  you  ?     What  will  you  do  ? 


ACT  II]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  71 

Nils  Lykke. 

Caution  and  cunning  may  in  this  matter  prove  of 
more  avail  than  force  of  arms. — And  to  say  truth,  Cap- 
tain Jens  Bielke — something  of  the  sort  has  been  in  my 
mind  ever  since  we  met  in  Trondhiem  yesterday. 

Jens  Bielke. 

Was  that  why  you  persuaded  me  to  leave  the  men-at- 
arms  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Both  your  purpose  at  Ostrat  and  mine  could  best  be 
served  without  them;  and  so 

Jens  Bielke. 

The  foul  fiend  seize  you — I  had  almost  said!  And 
me  to  boot!  Might  I  not  have  known  that  there  is  guile 
in  all  your  dealings.'^ 

Nils  Lykke. 

Be  sure  I  shall  need  all  my  guile  here,  if  I  am  to  face 
my  foe  with  even  weapons.  And  let  me  tell  you,  'tis 
of  the  utmost  moment  to  me  that  I  acquit  me  of  my 
mission  secretly  and  well.  You  must  know  that  when  I 
set  forth  I  was  scarce  in  favour  with  my  lord  the  King. 
He  held  me  in  suspicion;  though  I  dare  swear  I  have 
served  him  as  well  as  any  man  could,  in  more  than  one 
ticklish  charge. 

Jens  Bielke. 

That  you  may  safely  boast.  God  and  all  men  know 
you  for  the  craftiest  devil  in  all  the  three  kingdoms. 


72  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  thank  you!  Though,  after  all,  'tis  not  much  to  say. 
But  this  present  errand  I  count  as  indeed  a  crowning 
test  of  my  powers;  for  here  I  have  to  outwit  a  woman 

Jens  Bielke. 

Ha-ha-ha !  In  t  h  a  t  art  you  have  long  since  given 
crowning  proofs  of  your  skill,  dear  brother.  Think  you 
we  in  Sweden  know  not  the  song — 

Fair  maidens  a-many  they  sigh  and  they  pine: 
"Ah  God,  that  Nils  Lykke  were  mine,  mine,  mine!" 

Nils  Lykke. 

Alas,  'tis  women  of  twenty  and  thereabouts  that  ditty 
speaks  of.  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove  is  nigh  on  fifty,  and 
wily  to  boot  beyond  all  women.  'Twill  be  no  light  mat- 
ter to  overmatch  her.  But  it  must  be  done — at  any 
cost.  Should  I  contrive  to  win  certain  advantages  over 
her  that  the  King  has  long  desired,  I  can  reckon  on  the 
embassy  to  France  next  spring.  You  know  that  I  spent 
three  years  at  the  University  in  Paris  ?  My  whole  soul 
is  set  on  coming  thither  again,  most  of  all  if  I  can  appear 
in  lofty  place,  a  king's  ambassador. — Well,  then — is  it 
agreed — do  you  leave  Lady  Inger  to  me .''  Remember — 
when  you  were  last  at  Court  in  Copenhagen,  I  made  way 
for  you  with  more  than  one  fair  lady 

Jens  Bielke. 

Nay,  truly  now — that  generosity  cost  you  little;  one 
and  all  of  them  were  at  your  beck  and  call.     But  let  that 


ACT  II]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  73 

pass;  now  that  I  have  begun  amiss  in  this  matter,  I  had 
as  lief  that  you  should  take  it  on  your  shoulders.  Yet 
one  thing  you  must  promise— if  the  young  Count  Sture 
be  in  Ostrat,  you  will  deliver  him  into  my  hands,  dead 
or  alive! 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  shall  have  him  all  alive.  I,  at  any  rate,  mean 
not  to  kill  him.  But  now  you  must  ride  back  and  join 
your  people.  Keep  guard  on  the  road.  Should  I  mark 
aught  that  mislikes  me,  you  shall  know  it  forthwith. 

Jens  Bielke. 
Good,  good.     But  how  am  I  to  get  out ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

The  fellow  that  brought  us  in  will  show  the  way.  But 
go  quietly 

Jens  Bielke. 
Of  course,  of  course.     Well— good  fortune  to  you ! 

Nils  Lykke. 

Fortune  has  never  failed  me  in  a  war  with  women. 
Haste  you  now!  [Jens  Bielke  goes  out  to  the  right. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Stands  still  for  awhile;  then  walks  about  the  room, 
looking  rouyid  him;  then  he  says  softly:]  At  last,  then,  I 
am  at  Ostrat — the  ancient  hall  whereof  a  child,  two 
years  ago,  told  me  so  much. 


74  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Lucia.     Ay,  two  years  ago  she  was  still  a  child.     And 
now — now    she    is    dead.     [Hums    with    a    half -smile.] 

"Blossoms  plucked  are  blossoms  withered " 

[Looks  round  him  again. 

Ostrat.     'Tis  as  though  I  had  seen  it  all  before;  as 

though  I  were  at  home  here. — In  there  is  the  Banquet 

Hall.     And  underneath  is — the  grave-vault.     It  must  be 

there  that  Lucia  lies. 

[In  a  lower  voice,  half-seriously ,  half  tvith  forced 
gaiety. 
Were  I  timorous,  I  might  well  find  myself  fancying 
that  when  I  set  foot  within  Ostrat  gate  she  turned  about 
in  her  coffin;  as  I  crossed  the  courtyard  she  lifted  the 
lid;  and  when  I  named  her  name  but  now,  'twas  as 
though  a  voice  summoned  her  forth  from  the  grave- 
vault. — Maybe  she  is  even  now  groping  her  way  up  the 
stairs.  The  face-cloth  blinds  her,  but  she  gropes  on  and 
on  in  spite  of  it. 

Now  she  has  reached  the  Banquet  Hall!     She  stands 
watching  me  from  behind  the  door! 

[Turns  his  head  backwards  over  one  shoulder,  nods, 

and  says  aloud: 

Come   nearer,    Lucia!     Talk   to    me   a   little!     Your 

mother  keeps  me   waiting.     'Tis  tedious  waiting — and 

you   have  helped   me  to   while  away  many  a  tedious 

hour 

[Passes  his  hand  over  his  forehead,  and  takes  one  or 
two  turns  up  and  down. 
Ah,  there! — Right,  right;  there  is  the  deep  curtained 
window.  'Tis  there  that  Inger  Gyldenlove  is  wont  to 
stand  gazing  out  over  the  road,  as  though  looking  for 
one  that  never  comes.  In  there — [looks  towards  the  door 
on  the  left] — somewhere  in  there  is  Sister  Elina's  cham- 
ber.    Elina?     Ay,  Elina  is  her  name. 


ACT  II]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  75 

Can  it  be  that  she  Is  so  rare  a  being — so  wise  and  so 
brave  as  Lucia  fancied  her?  Fair,  too,  they  say.  But 
for  a  wedded   wife — ?     I   should   not  have  written   so 

plainly. 

[Lost  in  thought,  he  is  on  the  'point  of  sitting  down  by 

the  table,  but  stands  up  again. 

How  will   Lady  Inger  receive  me.^ — She  will   scarce 

burn   the  castle  over  our  heads,  or  slip  me  through  a 

trap-door.     A  stab  from  behind — ?     No,  not  that  way 

either [Listens  towards  the  hall. 

Aha! 

[Lady  Inger  Gyldexlove  enters  from  the  hall. 

Lady  Ixger. 
[Coldly.]     My  greeting  to  you.  Sir  Councillor 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Bows  deeply.]     Ah— the  Lady  of  Ostrat! 

Lady  Ixger. 
and  my  thanks  that  you  have  forewarned  me  of 


your  visit. 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  could  do  no  less.  I  had  reason  to  think  that  ray 
coming  might  surprise  you 

Lady  Ixger. 

Trulv,  Sir  Councillor,  therein  you  iud^ed  aricrht. 
Nils  Lykke  was  indeed  the  last  guest  I  looked  to  see 
at  Ostrat. 


76  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Nils  Lykke. 

And  still  less,  mayhap,  did  you  think  to  see  him  come 
as  a  friend  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

As  a  friend  ?  You  add  mockery  to  all  the  shame  and 
sorrow  you  have  heaped  upon  my  house  ?  After  bring- 
ing my  child  to  the  grave,  you  still  dare 

Nils  Lykke, 

With  your  leave.  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove — on  that 
matter  we  should  scarce  agree;  for  you  count  as  nothing 
what  /  lost  by  that  same  unhappy  chance.  I  purposed 
nought  but  in  honour.  I  was  tired  of  my  unbridled  life; 
my  thirtieth  year  was  already  past;  I  longed  to  mate  me 
with  a  good  and  gentle  wife.  Add  to  all  this  the  hope 
of  becoming   your   son-in-law 

Lady  Inger. 

Beware,  Sir  Councillor!  I  have  done  all  in  my  power 
to  hide  my  child's  unhappy  fate.  But  because  it  is  out 
of  sight,  think  not  it  is  out  of  mind.  There  may  yet 
come  a  time 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  threaten  me.  Lady  Inger?  I  have  offered  you 
my  hand  in  amity;  you  refuse  to  take  it.  Henceforth, 
then,  it  is  to  be  open  war  between  us? 

Lady  Inger. 
I  knew  not  there  had  ever  been  aught  else  ? 


ACT  II]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  77 

Nils  Lykke. 

Not  on  your  side,  mayhap.  I  have  never  been 
your  enemy, — though,  as  a  subject  of  the  King  of  Den- 
mark, I  lacked  not  good  cause. 

Lady  Inger. 

I  understand  you.  I  have  not  been  pliant  enough. 
It  has  not  proved  so  easy  as  some  of  you  hoped  to  lure 
me  over  into  your  camp. — Yet  methinks  you  have  nought 
to  complain  of.  My  daughter  Merete's  husband  is  your 
countryman — further  I  cannot  go.  My  position  is  no 
easy  one.  Nils  Lykke! 

Nils  Lykke. 

That  I  can  well  believe.  Both  nobles  and  people 
here  in  Norway  think  they  have  an  ancient  claim  on 
you — a  claim,  'tis  said,  you  have  but  half  fulfilled. 

Lady  Inger. 

Your  pardon.  Sir  Councillor, — I  account  for  my  do- 
ings to  none  but  God  and  myself.  If  it  please  you,  then, 
let  me  understand  what  brings  you  hither. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Gladly,  Lady  Inger!  The  purpose  of  my  mission  to 
this  country  can  scarce  be  unknown  to  you ? 

Lady  Inger. 

I  know  the  mission  that  report  assigns  you.  Our 
King  would  fain  know  how  the  Norwegian  nobles  stand 
affected  towards  him. 


78  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Nils  Lykke. 
Assuredly. 

Lady  Inger. 
Then  that  is  why  you  visit  Ostrat? 

Nils  Lykke. 

In  part.  But  it  is  far  from  my  purpose  to  demand 
any  profession  of  loyalty  from  you 

Lady  Inger. 
What  then  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Hearken  to  me,  Lady  Inger!  You  said  yourself  but 
now  that  your  position  is  no  easy  one.  You  stand  half 
way  between  two  hostile  camps,  whereof  neither  dares 
trust  you  fully.  Your  own  interest  must  needs  bind 
you  to  u  s.  On  the  other  hand,  you  are  bound  to  the 
disaffected  by  the  bond  of  nationality,  and — who  knows  } 
— mayhap  by  some  secret  tie  as  well. 

Lady  Inger. 
[To  herself.]     A  secret  tie!     Oh  God,  can  he ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

\Notices  her  emotion,  hut  makes  no  sign,  and  continues 
without  change  of  ma7iner.]  You  cannot  but  see  that 
such  a  position  must  ere  long  become  impossible. — Sup- 
pose, now,  it  lay  in  my  power  to  free  you  from  these 
embarrassments  which 


ACT  II]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  79 

Lady  Inger. 
In  your  power,  you  say? 

Nils  Lykke. 

First  of  all,  Lady  Inger,  I  would  beg  you  to  lay  no 
stress  on  any  careless  words  I  may  have  used  concerning 
that  which  lies  between  us  two.  Think  not  that  I  have 
forgotten  for  a  moment  the  wrong  I  have  done  you.  Sup- 
pose, now,  I  had  long  purposed  to  make  atonement,  as 
far  as  might  be,  where  I  had  sinned.  Suppose  it  were 
for  that  reason  I  had  contrived  to  have  this  mission 
assigned  me. 

Lady  Inger. 

Speak  your  meaning  more  clearly.  Sir  Councillor; — 
I  cannot  follow  you. 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  can  scarce  be  mistaken  in  thinking  that  you,  as  well 
as  I,  know  of  the  threatened  troubles  in  Sweden.  You 
know,  or  at  least  you  can  guess,  that  this  rising  is  of  far 
wider  aim  than  is  commonly  supposed,  and  you  under- 
stand therefore  that  our  King  cannot  look  on  quietly 
and  let  things  take  their  course.     Am  I  not  right  .'^ 

Lady  Inger. 
Go  on. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Searchingly,  after  a  short  pause.]  There  is  one 
possible  chance  that  might  endanger  Gustav  Vasa's 
throne 


80  LADY  INGER   OF  OSTRAT        [act  ii 

Lady  Ixger. 
[To  herself.]     Whither  is  he  tending? 

Nils  Lykke. 
-the  chance,   namely,  that  there  should  exist  in 


Sweden  a  man  entitled  bv  his  birth  to  claim  election  to 
the  kingship. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Evasively.]  The  Swedish  nobles  have  been  even  as 
bloodily  hewn  down  as  our  own,  Sir  Councillor.  Where 
would  you  seek  for ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
[With  a  smile.]     Seek  ?     The  man  is  found  already 

Lady  Inger. 
[Starts  violently.]     Ah!     He  is  found? 

Nils  Lykke. 
-and  he  is  too  closely  akin  to  you,  Lady  Inger,  to 


be  far  from  your  thoughts  at  this  moment. 

[Looks  fixedly  at  her. 

The  last  Count  Sture  left  a  son 

Lady  Inger. 
\With  a  cry^     Holy  Saviour,  how  know  you ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Surprised.]  Be  calm,  Madam,  and  let  me  finish. 
— This  young  man  has  till  now  lived  quietly  with  his 
mother,  Sten  Sture's  widow. 


ACT  II]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  81 

Lady  Inger. 
[Breathes  more  freely.]     With—  ?     Ah,  yes— true,  true! 

Nils  Lykke. 

But  now  he  has  come  forward  openly.  He  has  shown 
himself  in  the  Dales  as  leader  of  the  peasants;  their 
numbers  are  growing  day  by  day;  and — as  mayhap  you 
know — they  are  finding  friends  among  the  peasants  on 
this  side  of  the  border-hills. 

Lady  Inger. 

[WJio  has  in  the  meantime  regained  her  composure.] 
Sir  Councillor, — you  speak  of  all  these  matters  as  though 
they  must  of  necessity  be  known  to  me.  What  ground 
have  I  given  you  to  believe  so.?  I  know,  and  wish  to 
know,  nothing.  All  my  care  is  to  live  quietly  within  my 
own  domain;  I  give  no  countenance  to  disturbers  of  the 
peace;  but  neither  must  you  reckon  on  me  if  it  be  your 
purpose  to  suppress  them. 

Nils  Lykke. 

\In  a  low  voice.']  Would  you  still  be  inactive,  were  it 
my  purpose  to  come  to  their  aid  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
How  am  I  to  understand  you  } 

Nils  Lykke. 

Have  you  not  seen,  then,  whither  I  have  been  aiming 
all  this  time.? — Well,  I  will  tell  you  all,  frankly  and 
openly.     Know,  then,  that  the  King  and  his  Council 


82  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [actii 

see  clearly  that  we  can  have  no  sure  footing  in  Norway 
so  long  as  the  nobles  and  the  people  continue,  as  now, 
to  think  themselves  wronged  and  oppressed.  We  un- 
derstand to  the  full  that  willing  allies  are  better  than 
sullen  subjects;  and  we  have  therefore  no  heartier  wish 
than  to  loosen  the  bonds  that  hamper  us,  in  effect,  even 
as  straitly  as  you.  But  you  will  scarce  deny  that  the 
temper  of  Norway  towards  us  makes  such  a  step  too 
dangerous — so  long  as  we  have  no  sure  support  behind 
us. 

Lady  Inger, 

And  this  support ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Should  naturally  come  from  Sweden.  But,  mark 
well,  not  so  long  as  Gustav  Vasa  holds  the  helm;  h  i  s 
reckoning  with  Denmark  is  not  yet  settled,  and  mayhap 
never  will  be.  But  a  new  king  of  Sweden,  who  had  the 
people  with  him,  and  who  owed  his  throne  to  the  help 

of  Denmark .     Well,  you  begin  to  understand  me .'' 

Then  we  could  safely  say  to  you  Norwegians:  "Take 
back  your  old  ancestral  rights;  choose  you  a  ruler  after 
your  own  mind;  be  our  friends  in  need,  as  we  will  be 
yours!" — Mark  you  well.  Lady  Inger,  herein  is  our  gen- 
erosity less  than  it  may  seem;  for  you  must  see  that,  far 
from  weakening,  'twill  rather  strengthen  us. 

And  now  that  I  have  opened  my  heart  to  you  so  fully, 
do  you  too  cast  away  all  mistrust.  And  therefore  [co7i- 
fidently] — the  knight  from  Sweden,  who  came  hither  an 
hour  before  me 

Lady  Inger. 
Then  you  already  know  of  his  coming? 


ACT  II]       LADY    INGER    OF    OSTRAT  83 

Nils  Lykke. 
Most  certainly.     'Tis  tie  whom  I  seek. 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  herself.]  Strange!  Then  it  must  be  as  Olaf 
Skaktavl  said.  [To  Nils  Lykke.]  I  pray  you  wait 
here,  Sir  Councillor!     I  will  go  bring  him  to  you. 

[Goes  out  through  the  Banquet  Hall. 

Nils  Lykke, 

[Looks  after  her  awhile  in  exultant  astonishment.] 
She  is  bringing  him!  Ay,  truly — she  is  bringing  him! 
The  battle  is  half  won.  I  little  thought  it  would  go  so 
smoothly. 

She  is  deep  in  the  counsels  of  the  rebels;  she  started 
in  terror  when  I  named  Sten  Sture's  son. 

And  now  ?  H'm !  Since  Lady  Inger  has  been  simple 
enough  to  walk  into  the  snare,  Nils  S^ure  will  not  make 
many  difficulties.     A  hot-blooded  boy,  thoughtless  and 

rash .     With  my  promise  of  help  he  will  set  forth 

at  once — unhappily  Jens  Bielke  will  snap  him  up  by 
the  way — and  the  whole  rising  will  be  nipped  in  the 
bud. 

And  then  ?  Then  one  further  point  to  our  advantage. 
It  is  spread  abroad  that  the  young  Count  Sture  has  been 
at  Ostnit, — that  a  Danish  envoy  has  had  audience  of 
Lady  Inger — that  thereupon  the  young  Count  Nils  has 
been  snapped  up  by  King  Gustav's  men-at-arms  a  mile 

from    the    castle. Let    Inger    Gvldenlove's    name 

among  the  people  stand  never  so  high — 'twill  scarce 
recover  from  such  a  blow. 

[Starts   up  in  sudden  uneasiness. 


84  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

By  all  the  devils — !  What  if  she  has  scented  mis- 
chief? It  may  be  he  is  even  now  slipping  through  our 
fingers —  [Listens  toivards  the  hall,  and  says  with  relief.] 
Ah,  there  is  no  fear.     Here  they  come. 

[Lady   Inger   Gyldenlove   enters  from  the  hall, 
accompanied  by  Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Lady  Inger. 
[To  Nils  Lykke.]     Here  is  the  man  you  seek. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Aside.]     Powers  of  hell — what  means  this  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

I  have  told  this  knight  your  name  and  all  that  you 
have  imparted  to  me 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Irresolutely.]     Ay  ?     Have  you  so  ?     Well 

Lady  Inger. 

and  I  will  not  hide  from  you  that  his  faith  in  your 

help  is  none  of  the  strongest. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Is  it  not? 

Lady  Inger. 

Can  you  marvel  at  that?  Surely  you  know  both  his 
way  of  thinking  and  his  bitter  fate 


ACT  II]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  85 

Nils  Lykke. 
This  man's — ?     Ah — ^yes,  truly 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[To  Nils  Lykke.]     But  seeing  'tis  Peter  Kanzler  him- 
self that  has  appointed  us  this  meeting 

Nils  Lykke. 

Peter    Kanzler — ?     [Recovers    himself  quickly.]     Ay, 
right, — I  have  a  mission  from  Peter  Kanzler 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

He  must   know   best  whom  he   can   trust.     So  why 
should  I  trouble  my  head  with  pondering  how 

Nils  Lykke. 
Ay,  you  are  right,  noble  Sir;  why  waste  time  over  that  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Rather  let  us  come  straight  to  the  matter. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Straight  to  the  point;  no  beating  about  the  bush — 'tis 
ever  my  fashion. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Then  will  you  tell  me  your  errand  here  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Methinks  you  can  partly  guess  my  errand 


86  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Peter  Kanzler  said  something  of  papers  that 

Nils  Lykke. 
Papers?     Ay,  true,  the  papers! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Doubtless  you  have  them  with  you  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Of  course;  safely  bestowed;  so  safely  that  I  cannot  at 
once 


[Appears  to  search  the  inner  pockets  of  his  doublet; 
says  to  himself: 
Who  the  devil  is  he?     What  pretext  can  I  make?     I 

may  be  on  the  brink  of  great  discoveries 

[Notices  that  the  Servants  are  laying  the  table  and 

lighting  the  lamps  in  the  Banquet  Hall,  ayid  says 

to  Olaf  Skaktavl: 

Ah,  I  see  Lady  Inger  has  taken  order  for  the  evening 

meal.     Mayhap  we  could  better  talk  of  our  affairs  at 

table. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Good;  as  you  will. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside.]     Time  gained — all  gained! 

[To  Lady  Inger  with  a  show  of  great  friendliness: 
And  meanwhile  wc  might  learn  what  part  Lady  Inger 
Gyldenlove  purposes  to  take  in  our  design  ? 


ACT  II]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  87 

Lady  Inger. 
I  ? — None. 

Nils  Lykke  and  Olaf  Skaktavl. 

None! 

Lady  Inger. 

Can  ye  marvel,  noble  Sirs,  that  I  venture  not  on  a 
game  wherein  loss  would  mean  loss  of  all  ?  And  that, 
too,  when  none  of  my  allies  dare  trust  me  fully. 

Nils  Lykke. 

That  reproach  touches  not  me.  I  trust  you  blindly; 
I  pray  you  be  assured  of  that. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Who  should  believe  in  you,  if  not  your  countrymen  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

Truly, — this  confidence  rejoices  me. 

[Goes  to  a  cupboard  in  the  back  wall  and  Jills  two 
goblets  with  wine. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Aside.]     Curse  her,  will  she  slip  out  of  the  noose  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[Hands  a  goblet  to  each.]  And  since  so  it  is,  I  offer 
you  a  cup  of  welcome  to  Ostrat.  Drink,  noble  knights! 
Pledge  me  to  the  last  drop! 


88  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

[Looks  from  one  to  the  other  after  they  have  drunk, 
and  says  gravely: 
But  now  I  must  tell  you — one  goblet  held  a  welcome 
for  my  friend;  the  other — death  for  my  enemy! 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Throivs  down  the  goblet.]     Ah,  I  am  poisoned! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[At  the  same  tim,e,  clutches  his  sword.]     Death  and  hell, 
have  you  murdered  me  ? 

Lady  Inger, 

[To  Olaf  Skaktavl,  pointing  to  Nils  Lykke.]     You 

see  the  Danes'  confidence  in  Inger  Gyldenlove 

[To    Nils    Lykke,    pointing    to    Olaf    Skaktavl.] 

and  likewise  my  countrymen's  faith  in  me! 

[To  both  of  them. 
Yet  you  would  have  me  place  myself  in  your  power.'* 
Gently,  noble  Sirs — gently!     The  Lady  of  Ostrat  is  not 
yet  in  her  dotage. 

[Elina  Gyldenlove  enters  by  the  door  on  the  left. 

Elina. 
I  heard  loud  voices — .     What  is  amiss  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
[To  Nils  Lykke.]     My  daughter  Elina. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Softly^     Elina!     I  had  not  pictured  her  thus. 

[Elina  catches  sight  of  Nils  Lykke,  and  stands  still, 
as  in  surprise,  gazing  at  him. 


ACT  II]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  89 

Lady  Inger. 
[Touches  her  arm.]     My  child — this  knight  is 

Elina. 

[Motiotis  her  mother  hack  ivith  her  Jiand,  still  looking 
intently  at  him,  and  says:]  There  is  no  need!  I  see 
who  he  is.     He  is  Nils  Lykke. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside,  to  Lady  Inger.]  How  ?  Does  she  know  me  ? 
Can  Lucia  have — ?     Can  she  know ? 

Lady  Inger. 
Hush!     She  knows  nothing. 

Elina. 

[To  herself.]  I  knew  it; — even  so  must  Nils  Lykke 
appear. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Approaches  her.]  Yes,  Elina  Gyldenlove, — you  have 
guessed  aright.  And  as  it  seems  that,  in  some  sense, 
you  know  me, — and,  moreover,  as  I  am  your  mother's 
guest, — you  will  not  deny  me  the  flower-spray  you  wear 
in  your  bosom.  So  long  as  it  is  fresh  and  fragrant,  I 
shall  have  in  it  an  image  of  yourself. 

Elina. 

[Proudly,  but  still  gazing  at  him.]  Pardon  me.  Sir 
Knight — 'twas  plucked  in  my  own  chamber,  and  there 
can  grow  no  flower  for  you. 


90  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Loosening  a  spray  ofjiowers  that  he  wears  in  the  front 
of  his  doublet.^  At  least  you  will  not  disdain  this  humble 
gift.  'Twas  a  farewell  token  from  a  courtly  dame  when 
I  set  forth  from  Trondhiem  this  morning. — But  mark 
me,  noble  maiden, — were  I  to  offer  you  a  gift  that  were 
fully  worthy  of  you,  it  could  be  nought  less  than  a  princely 
crown. 

Elina. 

\Who  has  taken  the  flowers  passively.]     And  were  it 
the  royal  crown  of  Denmark  you  held  forth  to  me — be- 
fore I  shared  it  with   you,    I  would  crush  it  to  pieces 
between  my  hands,  and  cast  the  fragments  at  your  feet! 
[  Throws  down  the  flowers  at  his  feet,  and  goes  into 
the  Banquet  Hall. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[Mutters  to  himself.]  Bold — as  Inger  Ottisdaughter 
by  Knut  Alf son's  bier! 

Lady  Inger. 

[Softly,  after  looking  alternately  at  Elina  and  Nils 
Lykke.]  The  wolf  c  a  n  be  tamed.  Now  to  forge  the 
fetters. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Picks  up  the  flowers  and  gazes  in  rapture  after  Elina.] 
God's  holy  blood,  but  she  is  proud  and  fair! 


ACT  THIRD 

The  Banquet  Hall.  A  high  how-windoiv  in  the  hack- 
ground;  a  smaller  windoiu  in  front  on  the  left.  Sev- 
eral doors  on  each  side.  The  ceiling  is  S7ipported  by 
massive  wooden  pillars,  on  which,  as  well  as  on  the 
walls,  are  hung  all  sorts  of  weapons.  Pictures  of 
saints,  knights,  and  ladies  hang  in  long  roivs.  Pen- 
dent from  the  ceiling  a  large  many-branched  lamp, 
alight.  In  front,  on  the  right,  an  ancient  carven  high- 
seat.  In  the  middle  of  the  hall,  a  table  with  the  rem- 
nants of  the  evening  meal. 

Elina  Gyldenlove  enters  from  the  left,  slowly  and  in 
deep  thought.  Her  expression  shoivs  that  she  is 
going  over  again  in  her  mind  the  scene  with  Nils 
Lykke.  At  last  she  repeats  the  motion  ivith  which 
she  flung  away  the  flowers,  and  says  in  a  low  voice: 

Elina. 

And  then  he  gathered  up  the  fragments  of  the 

crown  of  Denmark — no,  'twas  the  flowers — and:  "God's 
holy  blood,  but  she  is  proud  and  fair!" 

Had  he  whispered  the  words  in  the  most  secret  spot, 
long  leagues  from  Ostrat, — still  had  I  heard  them! 

How  I  hate  him!  How  I  have  always  hated  him, — 
this  Nils  Lykke! — There  lives  not  another  man  like  him, 
'tis  said.  He  plays  with  women — and  treads  them  under 
his  feet. 

91 


92  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  hi 

And'  'twas  to  him  my  mother  thought  to  offer  me ! 
— How  I  hate  him! 

They  say  Nils  Lykke  is  unlike  all  other  men.  It  is  not 
true!  There  is  nothing  strange  in  him.  There  are  many, 
many  like  him!  When  Biorn  used  to  tell  me  his  tales,  all 
the  princes  looked  as  Nils  Lykke  looks.  When  I  sat  lonely 
here  in  the  hall  and  dreamed  my  histories,  and  my  knights 
came  and  went, — they  were  one  and  all  even  as  he. 

How  strange  and  how  good  it  is  to  hate!  Never 
have  I  known  how  sweet  it  can  be — till  to-night.  Ali — 
not  to  live  a  thousand  years  would  I  sell  the  moments  I 
have  lived  since  I  saw  him! — 

"God's  holy  blood,  but  she  is  proud " 

[Goes  slowly  toivards  the  hack,  oyens  the  window  and 
looks  out.  Nils  Lykke  comes  in  by  the  first  door 
on  the  right. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[To  himself ."l  "Sleep  well  at  Ostrat,  Sir  Knight,"  said 
Inger  Gyldenlove  as  she  left  me.     Sleep  well  ?     Ay,  'tis 

easily  said,  but Out  there,  sky  and  sea  in  tumult; 

below,  in  the  grave- vault,  a  young  girl  on  her  bier;  the 
fate  of  two  kingdoms  in  my  hand; — and  in  my  breast 
a  withered  flower  that  a  woman  has  flung  at  my  feet. 
Truly,  I  fear  me  sleep  will  be  slow  of  coming.  [Notices 
Elina,  who  has  left  the  windoio,  and  is  going  out  on 
the  left.]  There  she  is.  Her  haughty  eyes  seem  veiled 
with  thought. — Ah,  if  I  but  dared — .  [Aloud.]  Mistress 
Elina! 

Elina. 

[Stops  at  the  door.]  What  will  you  ?  Why  do  you 
pursue  me  ? 


ACT  III]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  93 

Nils  Lykke. 
You  err;  I  pursue  you  not.     I  am  myself  pursued. 

Elina. 
You? 

Nils  Lykke. 

By  a  multitude  of  thoughts.     Therefore  'tis  with  sleep 
as  with  you: — it  flees  me. 

Elina. 

Go  to  the  window,  and  there  you  will  find  pastime; 
— a  storm-tossed  sea 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Smiles.]     A  storm-tossed  sea.'     That  may  I  find  in 
you  as  well. 

Elina. 
In  me? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Ay,  of  that  our  first  meeting  has  assured  me. 

Elina. 
And  that  offends  you  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Nay,  in  nowise;  yet  I  could  wish  to  see  you  of  milder 
mood. 

Elina. 

[Proudly.]     Think  you  that  you  will  ever  have  your 
wish  r 


94  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  hi 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  am  sure  of  it.     I  have  a  welcome  word  to  say  to  you. 

Elina. 
What  is  it  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Farewell. 

Elina. 

[Comes  a  step  nearer  him.]  Farewell  ?  You  are  leav- 
ing Ostrat — so  soon  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
This  very  night. 

Elina. 

[Seems  to  hesitate  for  a  moment;  then  says  coldly.]  Then 
take  my  greeting,  Sir  Knight!      [Bows  and  is  about  to  go. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Elina  Gyldenlove, — I  have  no  right  to  keep  you  here; 
but  'twill  be  unlike  your  nobleness  if  you  refuse  to  hear 
what  I  have  to  say  to  you. 

Elina. 
I  hear  you,  Sir  Knight. 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  know  you  hate  mc. 

Elina. 
You  are  keen-sighted,  I  perceive. 


ACT  III]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  95 

Nils  Lykke. 

But  I  know,  too,  that  I  have  fully  merited  your  hate. 
Unseemly  and  wounding  were  the  words  I  wrote  of  you 
in  my  letter  to  Lady  Inger. 

Elina. 
Like  enough;  I  have  not  read  them. 

Nils  Lykke. 

But  at  least  their  purport  is  not  unknown  to  you;  I 
know  your  mother  has  not  left  you  in  ignorance  of  the 
matter;  at  the  least  she  has  told  you  how  I  praised  the 
lot  of  the  man  who — :  surely  you  know  the  hope  I 
nursed — 

Elina. 
Sir  Knight— if  'tis  of  that  you  would  speak — 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  speak  of  it,  only  to  ask  pardon  for  my  words;  for  no 
other  reason,  I  swear  to  you.  If  my  fame— as  I  have 
too  much  cause  to  fear — has  gone  before  me  to  Ostrat, 
you  must  needs  know  enough  of  my  life  not  to  won- 
der that  in  such  things  I  should  go  to  work  something 
boldly.  I  have  met  many  women,  Elina  Gyldenlove; 
but  not  one  have  I  found  unyielding.  Such  lessons, 
look  you,  teach  a  man  to  be  secure.  He  loses  the  habit 
of  roundabout  ways 

Elina. 

Maybe  so.     I  know  not  of  what  metal  those  women 
can  have  been  made. 


96  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  hi 

For  the  rest,  you  err  in  thinking  'twas  your  letter  to 
mv  mother  that  aroused  my  soul's  hatred  and  bitterness 
against  you.     It  is  of  older  date. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Uneasili/.]     Of  older  date  ?     What  mean  you  ? 

Elina. 

'Tis  as  you  guessed : — your  fame  has  gone  before  you, 
to  Ostrat,  even  as  over  all  the  land.  Nils  Lykke's  name 
is  never  spoken  save  with  the  name  of  some  woman 
whom  he  has  beguiled  and  cast  off.  Some  speak  it  in 
wrath,  others  with  laughter  and  wanton  jeering  at  those 
weak-souled  creatures.  But  through  the  wrath  and  the 
laughter  and  the  jeers  rings  the  song  they  have  made  of 
you,  full  of  insolent  challenge,  like  an  enemy's  song  of 
triumph. 

'Tis  all  this  together  that  has  begotten  my  hate  for 
you.  You  were  ever  in  my  thoughts,  and  ever  I  longed 
to  meet  you  face  to  face,  that  you  might  learn  that  there 
are  women  on  whom  your  subtle  speeches  are  lost — if  you 
should  think  to  use  them. 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  judge  me  unjustly,  if  you  judge  from  what  ru- 
mour has  told  of  me.  Even  if  there  be  truth  in  all  you 
have  heard, — you  know  not  the  causes  behind  it. — As  a 
boy  of  seventeen  I  began  my  course  of  pleasure.  I  have 
lived  full  fifteen  years  since  then.  I^ight  women  granted 
me  all  that  I  would — even  before  the  wish  had  shaped 
itself  into  a  prayer;  and  what  I  offered  them  they  seized 
with  eager  hands.  You  are  the  first  woman  that  has 
flung  back  a  gift  of  mine  with  scorn  at  my  feet. 


ACT  III]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  97 

Think  not  I  reproach  you.  Rather  I  honour  you  for 
it,  as  never  before  have  I  honoured  woman.  But  for 
this  I  reproach  my  fate — and  the  thought  is  a  gnawing 
pain  to  me — that  you  and   I  were  not  sooner  brought 

face  to  face. EHna  Gyldenlove!     Your  mother  has 

told  me  of  you.  While  far  from  Ostrat  life  ran  its  rest- 
less course,  you  went  your  lonely  way  in  silence,  living 
in  your  dreams  and  histories.  Therefore  you  will  under- 
stand what  I  have  to  tell  you. — Know,  then,  that  once 
I  too  lived  even  such  a  life  as  yours.  Methought  that 
when  I  stepped  forth  into  the  great  world,  a  noble  and 
stately  woman  would  come  to  meet  me,  and  would 
beckon  to  me  and  point  out  the  path  towards  a  glorious 
goal. — I  was  deceived,  Elina  Gyldenlove!  Women  came 
to  meet  me;  but  she  was  not  among  them.  Ere  yet  I  had 
come  to  full  manhood,  I  had  learnt  to  despise  them  all. 

Was  it  my  fault  .'^  Why  were  not  the  others  even  as 
you  ? — I  know  the  fate  of  your  fatherland  lies  heavy  on 
your  soul;  and  you  know  the  part  I  have  in  these  af- 
fairs  .  'Tis  said  of  me  that  I  am  false  as  the  sea- 
foam.  Mayhap  I  am;  but  if  I  be,  it  is  women  who  have 
made  me  so.  Had  I  sooner  found  what  I  sought, — had 
I  met  a  woman  proud  and  noble  and  high-souled  even 
as  you,  then  had  my  path  been  different  indeed.  At 
this  moment,  maybe,  I  had  been  standing  at  your  side 
as  the  champion  of  all  that  suffer  wrong  in  Norway's 
land.  For  this  I  believe:  a  woman  is  the  mightiest 
power  in  the  world,  and  in  her  hand  it  lies  to  guide  a 
man  whither  God  Almighty  would  have  him  go. 

Elina. 

[To  herself.]  Can  it  be  as  he  says.?  Nay,  nay;  there 
is  falsehood  in  his  eyes  and  deceit  on  his  lips.  And  yet 
— no  song  is  sweeter  than  his  words. 


98  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  hi 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Coming  closer,  speaks  low  and  more  intimately.]  As 
you  have  dwelt  here  at  Ostrat,  alone  with  your  change- 
ful thoughts,  how  often  have  you  felt  your  bosom  stifling; 
how  often  have  the  roof  and  walls  seemed  to  shrink  to- 
gether till  they  crushed  your  very  soul.  Then  have  your 
longings  taken  wing  with  you;  then  have  you  yearned  to 
fly  far  from  here,  you  knew  not  whither. — How  often 
have  you  not  wandered  alone  by  the  fiord;  far  out  a  ship 
has  sailed  by  in  fair  array,  with  knights  and  ladies  on 
her  deck,  with  song  and  music  of  stringed  instruments; — 
a  faint,  far-off  rumour  of  great  events  has  reached  your 
ears; — and  you  have  felt  a  longing  in  your  breast,  an 
unconquerable  craving  to  know  all  that  lies  beyond  the 
sea.  But  you  have  not  understood  what  ailed  you.  At 
times  you  have  thought  it  was  the  fate  of  your  fatherland 
that  filled  you  with  all  these  restless  broodings.  You 
deceived  yourself; — a  maiden  so  young  as  you  has  other 

food   for  musing. Elina   Gyldenlove!     Have  you 

never  had  visions  of  an  unknown  power — a  strong  mys- 
terious might,  that  binds  together  the  destinies  of  mortals  ? 
When  you  dreamed  of  the  many-coloured  life  far  out  in 
the  wide  world — when  you  dreamed  of  knightly  jousts 
and  joyous  festivals — saw  you  never  in  your  dreams  a 
knight,  who  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  gayest  rout,  with  a 
smile  on  his  lips  and  with  bitterness  in  his  heart, — a 
knight  that  had  once  dreamed  a  dream  as  fair  as  yours, 
of  a  woman  noble  and  stately,  for  whom  he  went  ever 
a-seeking,  and  ever  in  vain  ? 

Elina. 

Who  are  you,  that  have  power  to  clothe  my  most  se- 
cret thoughts  in  words  ?     How  can  you  tell  me  what  I 


ACT  III]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  99 

have  borne  in  my  inmost  soul — yet  knew  it  not  myself? 
How  know  you ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
All  that  I  have  told  you,  I  have  read  in  your  eyes. 

Elina. 

Never  has  any  man  spoken  to  me  as  you  have  spoken. 
I  have  understood  you  but  dimly;  and  yet — all,  all  seems 
changed  since 

[To  herself.]  Now  I  understand  why  they  said  that 
Nils  Lykke  was  unlike  all  others. 

Nils  Lykke. 

There  is  one  thing  in  the  world  that  might  drive  a 
man  to  madness,  but  to  think  of  it;  and  that  is  the  thought 
of  what  might  have  been,  had  things  but  fallen  out  in 
this  way  or  that.  Had  I  met  you  on  my  path  while  the 
tree  of  my  life  was  yet  green  and  budding,  at  this  hour, 
mayhap,  you  had  been 

But  forgive  me,  noble  lady!  Our  speech  of  these  past 
few  moments  has  made  me  forget  how  we  stand  one  to 
another.  'Twas  as  though  a  secret  voice  had  told  me 
from  the  first  that  to  you  I  could  speak  openly,  without 
flattery  or  dissimulation. 

Elina. 
That  can  you. 

Nils  Lykke. 

'Tis  well; — and  it  may  be  that  this  openness  has  al- 
ready in  part  reconciled  us.  Ay — my  hope  is  yet  bolder. 
The  time   may  yet  come  when  you   will   think  of  the 


100  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  hi 

stranger  knight  without  hate  or  bitterness  in  your  soul. 
Nay, — mistake  me  not !  I  mean  not  n  o  w — but  some 
time,  in  the  days  to  come.  And  that  this  may  be  the 
less  hard  for  you — and  as  I  have  begun  once  for  all  to 
speak  to  you  plainly  and  openly — let  me  tell  you 


Sir  Knight- 


Elina. 


Nils  Lykke. 


[Smiling.]  Ah,  I  see  the  thought  of  my  letter  still  af- 
frijrhts  vou.  Fear  nou2;ht  on  that  score.  I  would  from 
my  heart  it  were  unwritten,  for — I  know  'twill  concern 
you  little  enough,  so  I  may  even  say  it  right  out — for  I 
love  you  not,  and  shall  never  come  to  love  you.  Fear 
nothing,  therefore,  as  I  said  before;  I  shall  in  nowise 
seek  to 

But  what  ails  you ? 

Elina. 

Me.^  Nothing,  nothing. — Tell  me  but  one  thing:  why 
do  you  still  wear  those  flowers  ?  What  would  you  with 
them .'' 

Nils  Lykke. 

These  ?  Are  they  not  a  gage  of  battle  you  have  thrown 
down  to  the  wicked  Nils  Lykke,  on  behalf  of  all  woman- 
kind ?     What  could  I  do  but  take  it  up  ? 

You  asked  what  I  would  with  them  ?  [Softly.]  When 
I  stand  again  amid  the  fair  ladies  of  Denmark — when 
the  music  of  the  strings  is  hushed  and  there  is  silence 
in  the  hall — then  will  I  bring  forth  these  flowers  and 


ACT  III]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  101 

tell  a  tale  of  a  young  maiden  sitting  alone  in  a  gloomy 

black-beamed  hall,  far  to  the  north  in  Norway 

[Breaks  off  and  bows  respectfully. 
But  I  fear  I  detain  the  noble  daughter  of  the  house 
too  long.     We  shall  meet  no  more;  for  before  daybreak 
I  shall  be  gone.     So  now  I  bid  you  farewell. 

Elina. 
Fare  you  well,  Sir  Knight!  [A  short  silence. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Again  you  are  deep  in  thought,  Elina  Gyldenlove!     Is 
it  the  fate  of  your  fatherland  that  weighs  upon  you  still .'' 

Elina. 

[Shakes  her  head,  absently  gazing  straight  in  front  of 
her.]     My  fatherland.' — I  think  not  of  my  fatherland. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Then  'tis  the  strife  and  misery  of  the  time  that  dis- 
quiets you. 

Elina. 

The  time  ?     I  had  forgotten  it — — You  go  to 

Denmark  ?     Said  you  not  so  ? 


Nils  Lykke. 


I  go  to  Denmark. 


Elina. 
Can  I  look  towards  Denmark  from  this  hall  ? 


LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNtti 


102  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  hi 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Points  to  the  window  on  the  left.]  Ay,  from  this  win- 
dow.    Denmark  lies  there,  to  the  south. 

Elina. 

And  is  it  far  from  here  ?  More  than  a  hundred 
leagues .'' 

Nils  Lykke. 

Much  more.     The  sea  lies  between  you  and  Denmark. 

Elina. 

[To  herself.]  The  sea  ?  Thought  has  sea-gulls'  wings. 
The  sea  cannot  stay  it.  [Goes  out  to  the  left. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Looks  after  her  awhile;  then  says:]  If  I  could  but 
spare  two  days  now — or  even  one — I  would  have  her  in 
my  power,  even  as  the  others. 

And  yet  is  there  rare  stuff  in  this  maiden.     She  is 

proud.     Might  I  not  after  all ?     No;  rather  humble 

her [Paces  the  room.]     Verily,  I  believe  she  has  set 

my  blood  afire.  Who  would  have  thought  it  possible 
after  all  these  years? — Enough  of  this!  I  must  get  out 
of  the  tangle  I  have  here  thrust  myself  into.  [Sits  in  a 
chair  on  the  right.]  What  is  the  meaning  of  it  ?  Both 
Olaf  Skaktavl  and  Inger  Gyldenlove  seem  blind  to  the 
mistrust  'twill  waken,  when  'tis  rumoured  that  I  am  in 
their  league. — Or  can  Lady  Inger  have  seen  through  my 
purpose  ?  Can  she  have  seen  that  all  my  promises  were 
but  designed  to  lure  Nils  Sture  forth  from  his  hiding- 
place  .'*     [Syrings  wp.]     Damnation !     Is  it  I  that  have 


,-^y 


ACT  III]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  103 

been  fooled  ?  'Tis  like  enough  that  Count  Sture  is  not 
at  Ostrat  at  all.  It  may  be  the  rumour  of  his  flight  was 
but  a  feint.      He  may   be  safe   and   sound   among  his 

friends  in  Sweden,  while  I [Walks  restlessly  up  and 

dourn.]  And  to  think  I  was  so  sure  of  success!  If  I 
should  effect  nothing  ?  If  Lady  Inger  should  penetrate 
all  my  designs — and  publish  my  discomfiture — .  To  be 
a  laughing-stock  both  here  and  in  Denmark!  To  have 
sought  to  lure  Lady  Inger  into  a  trap — and  given  her 
cause  the  help  it  most  needed — strengthened  her  in  the 

people's  favour !     Ah,  I  could  well-nigh  sell  myself 

to  the  Evil  One,  would  he  but  help  me  to  lay  hands  on 
Count  Sture, 

[The   windoio   in   the   background   is  pushed  open. 
Nils  Stensson  appears  outside. 

Nils  Lykke, 
[Clutches  at  his  sword.]     Who  is  there  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Jumps  down  on  to  the  Jloor.]     Ah;  here  I  am  at  last 
then! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside.]     What  means  this  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
God's  peace,  master! 

Nils  Lykke. 

Thanks,    good    Sir!     Methinks    you    have    chosen    a 
strange  way  of  entrance. 


104  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  hi 

Nils  Stensson. 

Av,  what  the  devil  was  I  to  do  ?     The  gate  was  shut. 
Folk  must  sleep  in  this  house  like  bears  at  Yuletide. 

Nils  Lykke. 

God  be  thanked!     Know  you  not  that  a  good  con- 
science is  the  best  pillow  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  it  must  be  even  so;  for  with  all  my  rattling  and 

thundering,  I 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  won  not  in  ? 


Nils  Stensson. 

You  have  hit  it.  So  I  said  to  myself:  As  you  are 
bidden  to  be  in  Ostrat  to-night,  if  you  have  to  go 
through  fire  and  water,  you  may  surely  make  free  to 
creep  through  a  window. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside.]     Ah,  if  it  should  be !     [Moves  a  step  or 

tivo  nearer.]     Was  it,  then,  of  the  last  necessity  that  you 
should  reach  Ostrat  to-night.^ 

Nils  Stensson. 

Was  it  ?  Ay,  faith  but  it  was.  I  lore  not  to  keep  folk 
waiting,  I  can  tell  you. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Aha, — then  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlcive  looks  for  your 
coming  ? 


ACT  III]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  105 

Nils  Stensson. 

Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove  ?  Nay,  that  I  can  scarce  say 
for  certain;  [with  a  sly  smile]  but  there  might  be  some 
one  else 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Smiles  in  answer.]  Ah,  so  there  might  be  some  one 
else —  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Tell  me — are  you  of  the  house  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  ?  Well,  in  so  far  that  I  am  Lady  Inger's  guest  this 
evening. 

Nils  Stensson. 

A  guest  ? — Is  not  to-night  the  third  night  after  Mar- 
tinmas ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

The  third  night  after — ?  Av,  right  enough, — Would 
you  seek  the  lady  of  the  house  at  once  ?  I  think  she  is 
not  yet  gone  to  rest.  But  might  not  you  sit  down  and 
rest  awhile,  dear  young  Sir  ?  See,  here  is  yet  a  flagon 
of  wine  remaining,  and  doubtless  you  will  find  some  food. 
Come,  fall  to;  you  will  do  wisely  to  refresh  your  strength. 

Nils  Stensson. 

You  are  right.  Sir;  'twere  not  amiss.  [Sits  doicn  by 
the  table  and  eats  and  drinks.]  Both  roast  meat  and 
sweet  cakes!     Why,  you  live  like  lords  here!     When  one 


106  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  iii 

has  slept,  as  I  have,  on  the  naked  ground,  and  lived  on 
bread  and  water  for  four  or  five  days 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Looks  at  him  with  a  smile.]  Ay,  such  a  life  must 
be  hard  for  one  that  is  wont  to  sit  at  the  high-table  in 
noble  halls 

Nils  Stensson. 
Noble  halls ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

But  now  can  you  take  your  ease  at  Ostrat,  as  long  as 
it  likes  you. 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Pleased.]  Ay  ?  Can  I  truly  ?  Then  I  am  not  to  be- 
gone again  so  soon  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Nay,  that  I  know  not.  Sure  you  yourself  can  best 
say  that. 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Softly.]  Oh,  the  devil!  [Stretches  himself  in  the 
chair.]  Well,  you  see — 'tis  not  yet  certain.  I,  for  my 
part,  were  nothing  loath  to  stay  quiet  here  awhile; 
but 

Nils  Lykke. 

But  you  are  not  in  all  points  your  own  master? 

There  be  other  duties  and  other  affairs— 


.  3 


ACT  III]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  107 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  that  is  just  the  rub.  Were  I  to  choose,  I  would 
rest  me  at  Ostrat  at  least  the  winter  through;  I  have  for 

the  most  part  led  a  soldier's  life,  and [Interrupts 

himself  suddenly ,  Jills  a  goblet,  and  drinks.]     Your  health, 
Sir! 

Nils  Lykke. 

A  soldier's  life  ?     H'm! 

Nils  Stensson. 

Nay,  what  I  would  have  said  is  this:  I  have  long  been 
eager  to  see  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove,  whose  fame  has 
spread  so  wide.  She  must  be  a  queenly  woman, — is't 
not  so  ? — The  one  thing  I  like  not  in  her,  is  that  she  is 
so  cursedly  slow  to  take  open  action. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Open  action  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  ay,  you  understand  me;  I  mean  she  is  so  loath  to 
take  a  hand  in  driving  the  foreign  masters  out  of  the  land. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Ay,  there  you  are  right.  But  if  now  you  do  what  you 
can,  you  will  doubtless  move  her. 

Nils  Stensson. 
I  ?     God  knows  'twould  but  little  serve  if  I 


108  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  hi 

Nils  Lykke. 

Yet  'tis  strange  you  should  seek  her  here  if  you  have 
so  little  hope. 

Nils  Stensson. 
What  mean  you  ? — Tell  me,  know  you  Lady  Inger  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Surely;  since  I  am  her  guest 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  but  it  in  nowise  follows  that  you  know  her.  I 
too  am  her  guest,  yet  have  I  never  seen  so  much  as  her 
shadow. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Yet  did  you  speak  of  her 

Nils  Stensson. 
as  all  folk  speak.     Why  should  I  not?     And  be- 


sides, I  have  often  enough  heard  from  Peter  Kanzler 

[Stops  in  confusion,  and  falls  to  eating  busily. 

Nils  Lykke. 
You  would  have  said ? 


Nils  Stensson. 
[Eatitig.]     I  ?     Nay,  'tis  all  one. 


[Nils  Lykke  laughs. 


Nils  Stensson. 
Why  laugh  you.  Sir? 


ACT  III]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  109 

Nils  Lykke. 
At  nothing.  Sir! 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Drinks.]     A  pretty  vintage  ye  have  in  this  house. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Approaches  him  confidentially.]  Listen — were  it  not 
time  now  to  throw  off  the  mask.^ 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Smiling.]  The  mask  ?  Why,  do  as  seems  best  to 
you. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Then  off  with  all  disguise.  You  are  known,  Count 
Sture! 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Bursts  out  laughing.]  Count  Sture  ?  Do  you  too  take 
me  for  Count  Sture  ?  [Rises from  the  table.]  You  mistake, 
Sir!     I  am  not  Count  Sture. 

Nils  Lykke. 
You  are  not .''     Then  who  are  you  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
My  name  is  Nils  Stensson. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Looks  at  him  with  a  smile.]  H'm!  Nils  Stensson? 
But  you  are  not  Sten  Sture's  son  Nils .''  The  name  chimes 
at  least. 


110  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  hi 

Nils  Stensson. 

True  enough;  but  God  knows  what  right  I  have  to 
bear  it.  My  father  I  never  knew;  my  mother  was  a 
poor  peasant  woman,  that  was  robbed  and  murdered  in 
one  of  the  old  feuds.  Peter  Kanzler  chanced  to  be  on 
the  spot;  he  took  me  into  his  care,  brought  me  up,  and 
taught  me  the  trade  of  arms.  As  you  know,  King  Gus- 
tav  has  been  hunting  him  this  many  a  year;  and  I  have 
followed  him  faithfully,  wherever  he  went. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Peter  Kanzler  has  taught  you  more  than  the  trade 

of  arms,  meseems. Well,  well;  then  you  are  not 

Nils  Sture.     But  at  least  you  come  from  Sweden.     Peter 
Kanzler  has  sent  you  hither  to  find  a  stranger,  who 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Nods  cunningly^ who  is  found  already. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Somevjhat  uncertain.]     And  whom  you  do  not  know  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

As  little  as  you  know  me;  for  I  swear  to  you  by  God 
himself:  I  am  not  Count  Sture! 

Nils  Lykke. 
In  sober  earnest.  Sir  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

As  truly  as  I  live!  Wherefore  should  I  deny  it,  if  I 
were? 


ACT  III]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  111 

Nils  Lykke. 
But  where,  then,  is  Count  Sture  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
[In  a  low  voice.]     Ay,   that   is  just  the  secret. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Whispers.]     Which  is  known  to  you  ?     Is't  not  so  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Nods.]     And  which  I  am  to  tell  you. 

Nils  Lykke. 

To  tell  me?     Well  then, — where  is  he.' 

[Nils  Stensson  points  upwards. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Up  there?     Lady  Inger  holds  him  hidden  in  the  loft- 
room? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Nay,  nay;  you  mistake  me.     [Looks  round  cautiously.] 
Nils  Sture  is  in  Heaven! 

Nils  Lykke. 
Dead  ?     And  where  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
In  his  mother's  castle, — three  weeks  since. 


112  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  hi 

Nils  Lykke. 

Ah,  you  are  deceiving  me!  'Tis  but  five  or  six  days 
since  he  crossed  the  frontier  into  Norway. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Oh,  that  was  I. 

Nils  Lykke. 

But  just  before  that  the  Count  had  appeared  in  the 
Dales.  The  people,  who  were  restless  already,  broke 
out  openly  and  would  have  chosen  him  for  king. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Ha-ha-ha;  that  was  me  too! 

Nils  Lykke. 
You? 

Nils  Stensson. 

I  will  tell  you  how  it  came  about.  One  day  Peter 
Kanzler  called  me  to  him  and  gave  me  to  know  that 
great  things  were  preparing.  He  bade  me  set  out  for 
Norway  and  fare  to  Ostrat,  where  I  must  be  on  a  cer- 
tain fixed  day 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Nods.]     The  third  night  after  Martinmas. 

Nils  Stensson. 
There  I  was  to  meet  a  strano;er 


'o^ 


Nils  Lykke. 
Ay,  right;  I  am  he. 


ACT  III]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  113 

Nils  Stexssox. 

From  him  I  should  learn  what  more  I  had  to  do. 
Moreover,  I  was  to  let  him  know  that  the  Count  was 
dead  of  a  sudden,  but  that  as  yet  'twas  known  to  no  one 
save  to  his  mother  the  Countess,  together  with  Peter 
Kanzler  and  a  few  old  servants  of  the  Stures. 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  understand.  The  Count  was  the  peasants'  rally ing- 
point.  Were  the  tidings  of  his  death  to  spread,  they 
would  fall  asunder, — and  'twould  all  come  to  nought. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Ay,  maybe  so;  I  know  little  of  such  matters. 

Nils  Lykke. 
But  how  came  you  to  give  yourself  out  for  the  Count  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

How  came  I  to ?     Nay,  what  know  I  ?     Many's 

the  mad  prank  I  have  hit  on  in  my  day.  And  yet  'twas 
not  I  hit  on  it  neither;  for  whereever  I  appeared  in  the 
Dales,  the  people  crowded  round  me  and  hailed  me  as 
Count  Sture.  Deny  it  as  I  pleased,  'twas  wasted  breath. 
The  Count  had  been  there  two  years  before,  they  said — 
and  the  veriest  child  knew  me  again.  Well,  so  be  it. 
thought  I;  never  again  will  you  be  a  Count  in  this  life; 
why  not  try  what  'tis  like  for  once .'' 

Nils  Lykke. 
Well, — and  what  did  you  more  ^ 


114  LADY   TNGER   OF   ()STRAT       [act  hi 

Nils  Stensson. 

I?  I  ate  and  drniik  and  took  my  ease.  The  only 
pity  was  that  I  had  to  take  tlie  road  a<j;;iin  so  soon.  But 
when  T  sot  forth  across  the  fronticM* — lia-ha-ha— I  prom- 
ised them  I  wouhl  soon  he  hack  with  three  or  four  thou- 
sand men — I  know  not  how  many  1  said — and  then  we 
would  lay  on  in  earnest. 

Nils  Lykke. 

And  you  did  not  bethink  you  that  you  were  acting 
rashly  ? 

Nii^  Stensson. 

Ay,  afterwards;  but  then,  to  be  sure,  'twas  too  late. 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  grieve  for  you,  my  young  friend;  but  you  will  soon 
come  to  feel  the  effects  of  your  folly.  I/Ct  me  tell  you 
that  you  arc  pursued.  A  troop  of  Swedish  men-at-arms 
is  out  after  you. 

Nils  Stensson. 

After  me?  Ila-ha-ha!  Nay,  that  is  rare!  And  when 
they  come  and  think  they  have  Count  Sture  in  their 
clutches — ha-ha-ha ! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Gravebj.]     Then  'tis  all  over  with  you. 

Nils  Stensson. 
All  over ?     But  I  am  not  Count  Sture. 


ACT  III]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  115 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  have  called  the  people  to  arms.     You  have  given 
seditious  promises,  and  raised  troubles  in  the  land. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Ay,  but  'twas  only  in  jest! 

Nils  Lykke. 
King  Gustav  will  scarce  take  that  view  of  the  affair. 

Nils  Stensson. 

Truly,  there  is  something  in  what  you  say.     To  think 

I  could  be  so  featherwitted Well,  well,  I'm  not  a 

dead  man  yet!     You  will  protect  me;  and  besides — the 
men-at-arms  can  scarce  be  at  my  heels  yet. 

Nils  Lykke. 
But  what  else  have  you  to  tell  me  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

I  ?     Nothing.     When    once    I    have    given    you    the 
packet 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Off  his  guard.]     The  packet? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Ay,  sure  you  know 

Nils  Lykke. 
Ah,  rij^ht,  right;  the  papers  from  Peter  Kanzler 


116  LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT       [act  hi 

Nils  Stensson. 

See,  here  they  all  are. 

[ Takes  out  a  'packet from  inside  his  doublet,  and  hands 
it  to  Nils  Lykke. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside.^     Letters  and  papers  for  Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[To  Nils  Stensson. 
The  packet  is  open,  I  see.     'Tis  like  you  know  what  it 
contains  ? 


No,  good  sir;  I  love  not  to  read  writing;  and  for  reason 


Nils  Stensson 

,  good  sir;  I  lo 
good. 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  understand;  you  have  given  most  care  to  the  trade 
of  arms.  \Sits  down  by  the  table  on  the  right,  and  runs 
through  the  papers.]  Aha!  Here  is  light  enough  and  to 
spare  on  what  is  brewing. 

This  small  letter  tied  with  a  silken  thread — [Examines 
the  address.]  This  too  for  Olaf  Skaktavl.  [Opens  the  let- 
ter, and  glances  through  its  contents.]  From  Peter  Kanz- 
ler.  I  thought  as  much.  [Reads  under  his  breath.]  "I 
am  hard  bested,  for — ";  ay,  sure  enough;  here  it  stands, 
—  "Young  Count  Sture  has  been  gathered  to  his  fa- 
thers, even  at  the  time  fixed  for  the  revolt  to  break 
forth"  —  " — but  all  may  yet  be  made  good — "  What 
now  }  [Reads  on  in  astonishment.]  "You  must  know,  then, 
Olaf  Skaktavl,  that  the  young  man  who  brings  you  this 
letter  is  a  son  of —  "  Heaven  and  earth — can  it  be  so  ? 
— Ay,  by  the  cross  of  Christ,  even  so  'tis  written !  [Glances 
at  Nils  Stb:nsson.]  Can  he  be — ?  Ah,  if  it  were  so! 
[Reads  on.]     "I  have  nurtured  him  since  he  was  a  year 


ACT  III]       LADY   IXGER   OF   OSTRAT  117 

old ;  but  up  to  this  day  I  have  ever  refused  to  give  him 
back,  trusting  to  have  in  him  a  sure  hostage  for  Inger 
Gyldenlove's  faithfulness  to  us  and  to  our  friends.  Yet 
in  that  respect  he  has  but  little  availed  us.  You  mav 
marvel  that  I  told  you  not  this  secret  when  you  were 
with  me  here  of  late;  therefore  will  I  confess  freely  that 
I  feared  you  might  seize  upon  him,  even  as  I  had  done, 
and  to  the  same  intent.  But  now,  when  you  have  seen 
Lady  Inger,  and  have  doubtless  assured  yourself  how 
loath  she  is  to  have  a  hand  in  our  undertakinor,  vou  will 
see  that  'tis  wisest  to  give  her  back  her  own  as  soon  as 
may  be.     Well  might  it  come  to  pass  that  in  her  joy  and 

security  and  thankfulness — " " — that  is  now  our 

last  hope."  [Sits  for  awhile  as  though  struck  dumb  ivith 
surprise;  then  exclaims  in  a  low  voiced]  Aha, — what  a 
letter!     Gold  would  not  buy  it! 

Nils  Stensson. 

'Tis  plain  I  have  brought  you  weighty  tidings.  Ay, 
ay, — Peter  Kanzler  has  many  irons  in  the  fire,  folk  say. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[To  himself:]  What  to  do  with  all  this.'  A  thou- 
sand paths  are  open  to  me —  What  if  I  were — ?  No, 
'twere  to  risk  too  much.  But  if — ah,  if  I — .'  I  will 
venture  it!  [Tears  the  letter  across,  crumples  up  the  pieces, 
and  hides  them  inside  Jiis  doublet;  puts  back  the  other  pa- 
pers into  the  packet,  ivhich  he  thrusts  inside  his  belt;  rises 
and  says:]     A  word,  my  young  friend! 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Approaching  him.]  Well — your  looks  say  that  the 
game  goes  bravely. 


118  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  hi 

Nils  Lykke. 

Av,  bv  my  soul  it  does.     You  have  given  me  a  hand 
of  nought  but  court  cards, — queens  and  knaves 

Nils  Stexsson. 

But  what  of  me,  that  have  brought  all  these  good  tid- 
ings ?     Have  I  nought  more  to  do  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  ?  Ay,  that  have  you.  You  belong  to  the  game. 
You  are  a  king — and  king  of  trumps  too. 

Nils  Stexsson. 

I  a  king?  Oh,  now  I  understand;  you  are  thinking 
of  mv  exaltation 

Nils  Lykke. 
Your  exaltation  ? 

Nils  Stexssox. 

Av;  that  which  vou  foretold  for  me,  if  King  Gustav's 

men  got  me  in  their  clutches 

[Makes  a  motion  to  indicate  hanging. 

Nils  Lykke. 

True  enough; — but  let  that  trouble  you  no  more.  It 
now  lies  with  yourself  alone  whether  within  a  month  you 
shall  have  the  hempen  noose  or  a  chain  of  gold  about 
your  neck. 

Nils  Stexssox. 

A  chain  of  gold  ?     And  it  lies  with  me  ? 

[Nils  Lykke  nods. 


ACT  III]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  119 

Nils  Stexsson. 

Why,  then,  the  devil  take  doubting!  Do  you  but  tell 
me  what  I  am  to  do. 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  will.  But  first  you  must  swear  me  a  solemn  oath 
that  no  living  creature  in  the  wide  world  shall  know 
what  I  confide  to  you. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Is  that  all .-     You  shall  have  ten  oaths,  if  you  will. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Not  so  lightly,  young  Sir!     'Tis  no  jesting  matter. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Well,  well;  I  am  grave  enough. 

Nils  Lykke. 

In  the  Dales  you  called  yourself  a  Count's  son;— is't 
not  so  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Nay — begin  you  now  on  that  again  .=  Have  I  not 
made  free  confession 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  mistake  me.     What  you  said  in  the  Dales  was 

the  truth. 

Nils  Stensson. 

The    truth.'     What    mean    you    by    that.'     Tell    me 

but ! 


120  LADY  INGER   OF  OSTRAT       [act  iii 

Nils  Lykke. 

First  your  oath !  The  holiest,  the  most  inviolable  you 
can  swear. 

Nils  Stensson. 

That  you  shall  have.  Yonder  on  the  wall  hangs  the 
picture  of  the  Holy  Virgin 

Nils  Lykke. 

The  Holy  Virgin  has  grown  infirm  of  late.  Know  you 
not  what  the  monk  of  Wittenberg  maintains  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Fie!  how  can  you  heed  the  monk  of  Wittenberg? 
Peter  Kanzler  says  he  is  a  heretic. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Well,  let  us  not  dispute  the  matter.  Here  can  I  show 
you  a  saint  will  serve  full  well  to  make  oath  by.  [Poijits 
to  a  picture  hanging  on  one  of  the  panels.]  Come  hither, 
— swear  that  you  will  be  silent  till  I  myself  release  your 
tongue — silent,  as  you  hope  for  Heaven's  salvation  for 
yourself  and  for  the  man  whose  picture  hangs  there. 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Approaching  the  picture.]  I  swear  it — so  help  me 
God's  holy  word!  [Falls  back  a  step  in  amazement.] 
But — Christ  save  me ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
What  now? 


ACT  III]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  121 

Nils  Stensson. 
The  picture — !     Sure  'tis  I  myself! 

Nils  Lykke. 

'Tis  old  Sten  Sture,  even  as  he  lived  and  moved  in 
his  youthful  years. 

Nils  Stensson. 

Sten  Sture! — And  the  likeness — ?  And — said  you  not 
I  spoke  the  truth,  when  I  called  myself  a  Count's  son  ? 
Was't  not  so  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
So  it  was. 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ah,  I  have  it,  I  have  it!     I  am 


Nils  Lykke. 
You  are  Sten  Sture's  son,  good  Sir! 

Nils  Stensson. 
[With  the  quiet  of  amazement.]     I  Sten  Sture's  son! 

Nils  Lykke. 

On  the  mother's  side  too  your  blood  is  noble.  Peter 
Kanzler  spoke  not  the  truth,  if  he  said  that  a  poor  peas- 
ant woman  was  your  mother. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Oh  strange!  oh  marvellous!     But  can  I  believe ? 


122  LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT       [act  iii 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  may  believe  all  that  I  tell  you.  But  remember, 
all  this  will  be  merely  your  ruin,  if  you  should  forget 
what  you  swore  to  me  by  your  father's  salvation. 

Nils  Stensson. 

Forget  it  ?  Nay,  that  you  may  be  sure  I  never  shall. 
— But  you,  to  whom  I  have  given  my  word, — tell  me — 
who  are  you  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
My  name  is  Nils  Lykke. 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Surprised.]  Nils  Lykke  ?  Surely  not  the  Danish 
Councillor  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Even  so. 

Nils  Stensson. 

And  it  was  you —  ?  'Tis  strange.  How  come 
you ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

to    be    receiving   missives   from   Peter   Kanzler? 

You  marvel  at  that  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

I  cannot  deny  it.  He  has  ever  named  you  as  our 
bitterest  foe 

Nils  Lykke. 
And  therefore  you  mistrust  me  ? 


ACT  III]       LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT  123 

Nils  Stensson. 
Nay,  not  wholly  that;  but— well,  the  devil  take  musing! 

Nils  Lykke. 

Well  said.  Go  but  your  own  way,  and  you  are  as 
sure  of  the  halter  as  you  are  of  a  Count's  title  and  a 
chain  of  gold  if  you  trust  to  me. 

Nils  Stensson. 

That  will  I.  My  hand  upon  it,  dear  Sir!  Do  you 
but  help  me  with  good  counsel  as  long  as  there  is  need; 
when  counsel  gives  place  to  blows,  I  shall  look  to  my- 
self. 

Nils  Lykke. 

'Tis  well.  Come  with  me  now  into  yonder  chamber, 
and  I  will  tell  you  how  all  these  matters  stand,  and  what 
you  have  still  to  do.  [Goes  out  to  the  right. 

Nils  Stensson. 

[With  a  glance  at  the  picture.]     I  Sten  Sture's  son! 

Oh,  marvellous  as  a  dream ! 

[Goes  out  after  Nils  Lykke. 


ACT   FOURTH 

The  Banquet  Hall,  as  before,  hut  without  the  supper-table. 

BioRN,  the  majordomo,  enters  carrying  a  lighted  branch- 
candlestick,  and  lighting  in  Lady  Inger  and  Olaf 
Skaktavl  by  the  second  door  on  the  left.  Lady 
Inger  has  a  bundle  of  papers  in  her  hand. 

Ladt  Inger. 

[To  BioRN.]  And  you  are  sure  my  daughter  had 
speech  with  the  knight,  here  in  the  hall  ? 

BlORN. 

[Putting  down  the  brancli-candlestick  on  the  table  on 
the  left.]  Sure  as  may  be.  I  met  her  even  as  she  stepped 
into  the  passage. 

Lady  Inger. 
And  she  seemed  greatly  moved  ?     Said  you  not  so .'' 

BlORN. 

She  looked  all  pale  and  disturbed.  I  asked  if  she 
were  sick;  she  answered  not,  but  said:  "Go  to  my  mother 
and  tell  her  the  knight  sets  forth  from  here  ere  day- 
break; if  she  have  letters  or  messages  for  him,  beg  her 
not  to  delay  him  needlessly."  And  then  she  added  some- 
what that  I  heard  not  rightly. 

124 


ACTiv]        LADY  INGER  OF   OSTRAT  125 

Lady  Ixger. 
Did  you  not  hear  it  at  all  ? 

BlORN. 

It  sounded   to   me  as  though  she   said: — "Almost   I 
fear  he  has  already  tarried  too  Ions;  at  Ostrat." 

Lady  Inger. 

And  the  knight  ?     Where  is  he  ? 

BlORX. 

In  his  chamber  belike,  in  the  gate-wing. 

Lady  Ixger. 

It  is  well.     What  I  have  to  send  by  him  is  ready.     Go 
to  him  and  say  I  await  him  here  in  the  hall. 

[BioRN  goes  out  to  the  right. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Know  you,  Lady  Inger, — 'tis  true  that  in  such  things 

I  am  blind  as  a  mole;  yet  seems  it  to  me  as  though 

h'm! 

Lady  Inger. 
Well  ? 


Olaf  Skaktavl 

though 
daughter 


as    though    Nils    Lvkke    bore    a    mind    to    your 


Lady  Ixger. 

Then  'twould  seem  you  are  not  so  blind  after  all;  for 
I  am  the  more  deceived  if  you  be  not  right.     Marked 


126  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

you  not  at  the  supper-board  how  eagerly  he  listened  to 
the  least  word  I  let  fall  concerning  Elina  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
He  forgot  both  food  and  drink. 

Lady  Inger. 
And  our  secret  affairs  as  well. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Ay,  and  what  is  more — the  papers  from  Peter  Kanzler. 

Lady  Inger. 
And  from  all  this  you  conclude ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

From  all  this  I  chiefly  conclude  that,  as  you  know 
Nils  Lykke  and  the  name  he  bears,  especially  in  all  that 
touches  women 

Lady  Inger. 
1  should  be  right  glad  to  know  him  outside  my 


gates  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Ay;  and  that  as  soon  as  may  be. 

Lady  Inger. 

[SmiliJig.]     Nay — the  case  is  just  the  contrary,  Olaf 
Skaktavl ! 


ACT  IV]        LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT  127 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
How  mean  you  ? 

Lady  Inger, 

If  things  be  as  we  both  think,  Nils  Lykke  must  in 
nowise  depart  from  Ostrat  yet  awhile. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[Looks  at  her  ivith  disapproval.]  Are  you  again  em- 
barked on  crooked  courses,  Lady  Inger?  What  guile 
are  you  now  devising  ?  Something  that  may  increase 
your  own  power  at  the  cost  of  our 

Lady  Inger. 

Oh  this  blindness,  that  makes  you  all  do  me  such 
wrong!  I  see  well  you  think  I  purpose  to  make  Nils 
Lykke  my  daughter's  husband.  Were  such  a  thought 
in  my  mind,  why  had  I  refused  to  take  part  in  what  is 
afoot  in  Sweden,  when  Nils  Lykke  and  all  the  Danish 
crew  seem  willing  to  support  it  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Then  if  it  be  not  your  wish  to  win  him  and  bind  him 
to  you — what  would  you  with  him  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

I  will  tell  you  in  few  words.  In  a  letter  to  me.  Nils 
Lykke  has  spoken  of  the  high  fortune  it  were  to  be  allied 
to  our  house;  and  I  do  not  say  but,  for  a  moment,  I  let 
myself  think  of  the  matter. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Ay,  see  you! 


128  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Lady  Inger. 

To  wed  Nils  Lykke  to  one  of  my  house  were  doubt- 
less a  great  step  towards  stanching  many  discords  in 
our  land. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Meseems  your  daughter  Merete's  marriage  with  Vin- 
zents  Lunge  might  have  taught  you  what  comes  of  such 
a  step.  Scarce  had  my  lord  gained  firm  footing  among 
us,  when  he  began  to  make  free  with  both  our  goods 
and  our  rights 

Lady  Inger. 

I  know  it  even  too  well,  Olaf  Skaktavl!  But  times 
there  be  when  my  thoughts  are  manifold  and  strange.  I 
cannot  impart  them  fully  either  to  you  or  to  any  one  else. 
Often  I  know  not  the  right  course  to  choose.  And  yet 
— a  second  time  to  make  a  Danish  lord  my  son-in-law, 
— nought  but  the  uttermost  need  could  drive  me  to  that 
resource;  and  Heaven  be  praised — things  have  not  yet 
come  to    that! 

Olaf  Skaktavl, 

I  am  no  wiser  than  before,  Lady  Inger; — why  would 
you  keep  Nils  Lykke  at  Ostrat? 

Lady  Inger. 

[In  a  loiD  x'oice.']  Because  I  owe  him  an  undying  hate. 
Nils  Lykke  has  done  me  deadlier  wrong  than  any  other 
man.  I  cannot  tell  you  wherein  it  lies;  but  never  shall 
I  rest  till  I  am  avenged  on  him.  See  you  not  now  ? 
Say  that  Nils  Lykke  were  to  love  my  daughter — as  me- 
seems were  like  enough.     I  will  persuade  him  to  tarry 


ACT  IV]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  129 

here;  he  shall  learn  to  know  EHna  well.  She  is  both 
fair  and  wise. — Ah,  if  he  should  one  day  come  before 
me,  with  hot  love  in  his  heart,  to  beg  for  her  hand! 
Then — to  chase  him  away  like  a  dog;  to  drive  him  off 
with  jibes  and  scorn;  to  make  it  known  over  all  the  land 
that  Nils  Lykke  had  come  a-wooing  to  Ostrat  in  vain — ! 
I  tell  you  I  would  give  ten  years  of  my  life  but  to  see 
that  dav! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

In  faith  and  truth,  Inger  Gyldenlove — is  this  your 
purpose  towards  him  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

This  and  nought  else,  as  sure  as  God  lives!  Trust 
me,  Olaf  Skaktavl,  I  mean  honestly  by  my  countrymen; 
but  I  am  in  nowise  my  own  mistress.  Things  there  be 
that  must  be  kept  hidden,  or  'twere  my  death-blow. 
But  let  me  once  be  secure  on  that  side,  and  you  shall 
see  if  I  have  forgotten  the  oath  I  swore  by  Knut  Alf son's 
bier. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

\Shahes  her  hij  the  hand.]  Thanks  for  those  words! 
I  am  loath  indeed  to  think  evil  of  you. — Yet,  touching 
your  design  towards  this  knight,  methinks  'tis  a  vent- 
uresome game  you  would  play.  What  if  you  had  mis- 
reckoned  }  What  if  your  daughter —  ?  'Tis  said  no 
woman  can  stand  against  this  subtle  devil. 

Lady  Inger. 

My  daughter.?  Think  you  that  she — ?  Nay,  have 
no  fear  of  that;  I  know  Elina  better.     All  she  has  heard 


130  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

of  his  renown  has  but  made  her  hate  him  the  more. 
You  saw  with  your  own  eyes 

Olaf  Skjvktavl. 

Ay,  but — a  woman's  mind  is  shifting  ground  to  build 
on.     'Twere  best  you  looked  well  before  you. 

Lady  Inger. 

That  will  I,  be  sure;  I, will  watch  them  narrowly.  But 
even  were  he  to  succeed  in  luring  her  into  his  toils,  I 
have  but  to  whisper  two  words  in  her  ear,  and 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
What  then  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

She   will   shrink   from   him   as   though   he   came 

straight  from  the  foul  Tempter  himself. 

Hist,  Olaf  Skaktavl!  Here  he  comes.  Now  be  cau- 
tious. 

[Nils  Lykke  enters  by  Ulc  foremost  door  on  the  right. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Approaches  Lady  Inger  courteously.]  My  noble 
hostess  has  summoned  me. 

Lady  Inger. 

I  have  learned  through  my  daughter  that  you  are 
minded  to  leave  us  to-night. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Even  so,  to  my  sorrow; — since  my  business  at  Ostrat 
is  over. 


ACT  IV]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  131 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Not  before  I  have  the  papers. 

Nils  Lykke. 

True,  true.  I  had  well-nigh  forgot  the  weightiest 
part  of  my  errand.  'Twas  the  fault  of  our  noble  host- 
ess. With  such  gracious  skill  did  she  keep  her  guests 
in  talk  at  table 

Lady  Inger. 

That  you  no  longer  remembered  what  had  brought 
you  hither.^  I  rejoice  to  hear  it;  for  that  was  my  de- 
sign. Methought  that  if  my  guest,  Nils  Lykke,  were  to 
feel  at  his  ease  in  Ostrat,  he  must  forgret 

Nils  Lykke. 
What,  lady  ? 

Lady  Ixger. 

First  of  all  his  errand — and  then  all  that  had  s-one 

before  it. 

Nils  Lykke. 

\To  Olaf  Skaktavl,  as  he  takes  out  the  packet  and 
hands  it  to  him.]  The  papers  from  Peter  Kanzler.  You 
will  find  in  them  a  full  account  of  our  partizans  in  Sweden. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

It  is  well. 

[Sits  down  by  the  table  on  the  left,  where  he  opens 
the  packet  and  examines  its  contents. 

Nils  Lykke. 

And  now.  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove, — I  know  not  that 
there  is  aught  else  for  me  to  do  here. 


132  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Lady  Inger. 

Had  it  been  things  of  state  alone  that  brought  us 
together,  you  might  be  right.  But  I  should  be  loath 
to  think  so 

Nils  Lykke. 
You  would  say ? 

Lady  Inger. 

I  would  say  that  'twas  not  alone  as  a  Danish  Coun- 
cillor or  as  the  ally  of  Peter  Kanzler  that  Nils  Lykke 
came  to  be  my  guest. — Do  I  err  in  fancying  that  some- 
what you  mav  have  heard  down  in  Denmark  may  have 
made  you  curious  to  know  more  of  the  Lady  of  Ostrat  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Far  be  it  from  me  to  deny 

Olaf  Sk-\ktavl. 
[Turning  over  the  papers.]     Strange.     No  letter. 

Nils  Lykke. 
-Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove's  fame  is  all  too  widely 


spread  that  I  should  not  long  have  been  eager  to  see  her 
face  to  face. 

Lady  Inger. 

So  I  thought.  But  what,  then,  is  an  hour's  jesting 
talk  at  the  supper-table  ?  Let  us  try  to  sweep  away  all 
that  has  till  now  lain  between  us;  it  may  well  come  to 
pass  that  the  Nils  Lykke  I  know  may  wipe  out  the 
grudge  I  bore  the  one  I  knew  not.     Prolong  your  stay 


ACTiv]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  133 

here  but  a  few  days,  Sir  Councillor!  I  dare  not  per- 
suade Olaf  Skaktavl  thereto,  since  his  secret  charge  in 
Sweden  calls  him  hence.  But  as  for  you,  doubtless  your 
sagacity  has  placed  all  things  beforehand  in  such  train 
that  your  presence  can  scarce  be  needed.  Trust  me, 
your  time  shall  not  pass  tediously  with  us;  at  least  you 
will  find  both  me  and  my  daughter  heartily  disposed  to 
do  all  in  our  power  to  pleasure  you. 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  doubt  neither  your  goodwill  towards  me  nor  your 
daughter's;  of  that  I  have  had  ample  proof.  And  I  trust 
Tou  will  not  doubt  that  my  presence  elsewhere  must  be 
vitally  needful,  since,  despite  of  all,  I  must  declare  my 
longer  stay  at  Ostrat  impossible. 

Lady  Lstger. 

Is  it  even  so! — Know  you.  Sir  Councillor,  were  I 
evilly  minded,  I  might  fancy  you  had  come  to  Ostrat  to 
try  a  fall  with  me,  and  that,  having  lost,  you  cared  not 
to  linger  on  the  battle-field  among  the  witnesses  of  vour 
defeat. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Smiling.]  There  might  be  some  show  of  reason  for 
such  a  reading  of  the  case;  but  sure  it  is  that  as  yet  I 
hold  not  the  battle  lost. 

Lady  Inger. 

However  that  mav  be,  it  might  at  anv  rate  be  retrieved, 
if  you  would  tarry  some  days  with  us.  You  see  your- 
self, I  am  still  halting  and  wavering  at  the  parting  of  the 
ways, — persuading  my  redoubtable  assailant  not  to  quit 


134  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

the  field. — Well,  to  speak  plainly,  the  thing  is  this:  your 
alliance  with  the  disaffected  in  Sweden  still  seems  to  me 
somewhat — how  shall  I  call  it  ? — somewhat  miraculous, 
Sir  Councillor!  I  tell  vou  this  franklv,  dear  Sir!  The 
thought  that  has  moved  the  King's  Council  to  this  se- 
cret step  is  in  truth  most  politic;  but  'tis  strangely  at 
variance  with  the  deeds  of  certain  of  your  countrymen 
in  bygone  years.  Be  not  offended,  then,  if  my  trust  in 
your  fair  promises  needs  to  be  somewhat  strengthened 
ere  I  can  place  my  whole  welfare  in  your  hands. 

Nils  Lykke. 

A  longer  stay  at  Ostrut  would  scarce  help  towards 
that  end;  since  I  purpose  not  to  make  any  further  effort 
to  shake  your  resolve. 

Lady  Ixger. 

Then  must  I  pity  you  from  my  heart.  Ay,  Sir  Coun- 
cillor-— 'tis  true  I  stand  here  an  unfriended  widow;  yet 
may  you  trust  my  word  when  I  foretell  that  this  visit  to 
Ostrat  will  strew  your  future  path  with  thorns. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[With  a  smile.]     Is  that  your  forecast.  Lady  Inger? 

Lady  Inger. 

Truly  it  is!  What  can  one  say,  dear  Sir.''  'Tis  an 
age  of  tattling  tongues.  Many  a  scurril  knave  will  make 
jeering  rhymes  at  your  expense.  Ere  half  a  year  is  out, 
you  will  be  all  men's  fable;  people  will  stop  and  gaze 
after  you  on  the  high-roads;  'twill  be:  "Look,  look; 
there  rides  Sir  Nils  Lykke,  that  fared  north  to  Ostrat  to 


ACT  IV]       LADY   INGER   OF  OSTRAT  135 

trap  Inger  Gyldenlove,  and  was  caught  in  his  own  nets." 
— Softly,  softly,  Sir  Knight,  why  so  impatient!  'Tis  not 
that  I  think  so;  I  do  but  forecast  the  thoughts  of  the 
malicious  and  evil-minded;  and  of  them,  alas!  there  are 
many. — Ay,  'tis  shame;  but  so  it  is — you  will  reap  nought 
but  mockery — mockery,  because  a  woman  was  craftier 
than  you.  "Like  a  cunning  fox,"  men  will  say,  "he 
crept  into  Ostrat;  like  a  beaten  hound  he  slunk  away." 
— And  one  thing  more:  think  you  not  that  Peter  Kanz- 
ler  and  his  friends  will  forswear  your  alliance,  when  'tis 
known  that  /  venture  not  to  fight  under  a  standard  borne 
by  you .? 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  speak  wisely,  lady!  Wherefore  to  secure  me 
from  mockery — and  not  to  endanger  the  alliance  with 
all  our  dear  friends  in  Sweden — I  must  needs 

Lady  Inger. 
\Hastihj.'\     prolong  your  stay  at  Ostrat. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
\Who  has  been  listening.^     He  is  in  the  trap! 

Nils  Lykke. 

No,  my  noble  lady; — I  must  needs  bring  you  to  terms 
within  this  hour. 

Lady  Inger. 
But  what  if  you  should  fail .'' 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  shall   not   fail. 


136  LADY   IXGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Lady  Inger, 
You  lack  not  confidence,  it  seems. 

Nils  Lykke. 

What  shall  be  the  wager  that  you  make  not  common 
cause  with  myself  and  Peter  Kanzler  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
Ostrat  Castle  against  your  knee-buckles! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Slaps  his  breast  and  cries:]  Olaf  Skaktavl — here 
stands  the  master  of  Ostrat! 

Lady  Inger. 
Sir  Councillor ! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
[Rises  from  the  table.]     What  now.'' 

Nils  Lykke. 

[To  Lady  Inger.]  I  accept  not  the  wager;  for  in  a 
moment  you  will  gladly  give  Ostrat  Castle,  and  more  to 
boot,  to  be  freed  from  the  snare  wherein  not  I  but  you 
are  tangled. 

Lady  Inger. 
Your  jest.  Sir,  grows  a  vastly  merry  one. 

Nils  Lykke. 

'Twill  be  merrier  yet — at  least  for  me.  You  boast 
that  you  have  overreached  me.     You  threaten  to  heap 


ACT  IV]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  137 

on  me  all  men's  scorn  and  mockery.  Ah,  beware  that 
you  stir  not  up  my  vengefulness;  for  with  two  words  I 
can  bring  you  to  your  knees  at  my  feet. 

Lady  Inger. 

Ha-ha !  [Stops  suddenly,  as  if  struck  by  a  fore- 
boding.] x\nd  these  two  words,  Nils  Lykke  ? — these  two 
words ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

The  secret  of  Sten  Sture's  son  and  yours. 

Lady  Inger. 
[With  a  shriek.]     Oh,  God  in  heaven ! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Inger  Gyldenlove's  son !     What  say  you  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[Half  kneeling  to  Nils  Lykke.]  Mercy!  oh,  be  mer- 
ciful  ! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Raises  her  up.]  Collect  yourself,  and  let  us  talk 
together  calmly. 

Lady  Inger. 

[In  a  loto  voice,  as  though  beivildered.]  Did  you  hear 
it,  Olaf  Skaktavl  ?  Or  was  it  but  a  dream  ?  Heard 
you  what  he  said  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
It  was  no  dream,  Lady  Inger! 


138  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Lady  Inger. 

[Clasping  her  hands.']  And  you  know  it!  You, — 
you ! — Where  is  he  then  ?  Where  have  you  got  him  ? 
What  would  you  do  with  him  ?  [Screams.]  Do  not 
kill  him,  Nils  Lykke!  Give  him  back  to  me!  Do  not 
kill  my  child! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Ah,  I  begin  to  understand 

Lady  Inger. 

And    this   fear — this    torturing    dread!     Through   all 

these  weary  years  it  has  been  ever  with  me and  then 

all  fails  at  last,  and  I  must  bear  this  affonv! — Oh  Lord 
my  God,  is  it  right  of  thee  ?  Was  it  for  this  thou  gavest 
him  to  me  ? 

[Controls  herself  and  says  with  forced  composure: 

Nils  Lykke — tell  me  one  thing.  W^here  have  you 
got  him  ?     Where  is  he  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
With  his  foster-father. 

Lady  Inger. 

Still  with  his  foster-father.  Oh,  that  merciless 
man — !  For  ever  to  deny  me — .  But  it  must  not 
go  on  thus!     Help  me,  Olaf  Skaktavl! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
I? 

Nils  Lykke. 
There  will  be  no  need,  if  only  you 


ACT  IV]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  139 

Lady  Inger. 

Hearken,  Sir  Councillor!  What  you  know  you  shall 
kno^y  thoroughly.  And  you  too,  my  old  and  faithful 
friend ! 

Listen  then.  To-night  you  bade  me  call  to  mind 
that  fatal  day  when  Knut  xVlfson  was  slain  at  Oslo. 
You  bade  me  remember  the  promise  I  made  as  I  stood 
by  his  corpse  amid  the  bravest  men  in  Norway.  I  was 
scarce  full-grown  then;  but  I  felt  God's  strength  in  me, 
and  methought,  as  many  have  thought  since,  that  the 
Lord  himself  had  set  his  mark  on  me  and  chosen  me  to 
fight  in  the  forefront  for  my  country's  cause. 

Was  it  pride  of  heart.'  Or  was  it  a  calling  from  on 
high.'  That  I  have  never  clearly  known.  But  woe  to 
whoso  is  charged  with  a  mighty  task. 

For  seven  years  I  fear  not  to  say  that  I  kept  my  prom- 
ise faithfully.  I  stood  by  my  countrymen  in  all  their 
sufferings  and  their  need.  Playmates  of  mine,  all  over 
the  land,  were  wives  and  mothers  now,  I  alone  could 
give  ear  to  no  wooer — not  to  one.  That  you  know  best, 
Olaf  Skaktavl! 

Then  I  saw  Sten  Sture  for  the  first  time.  Fairer  man 
had  never  met  my  sight. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Ah,  now  it  grows  clear  to  me!  Sten  Sture  was  then 
in  Norway  on  a  secret  errand.  We  Danes  were  not  to 
know  that  he  wished  your  friends  well. 

Lady  Inger. 

In  the  guise  of  a  mean  serving-man  he  lived  a  whole 
winter  under  one  roof  with  me. 


140  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

That  winter  I  thought  less  and  less  of  the  country's 
weal. —  —  So  fair  a  man  had  I  never  seen — and  I  had 
lived  well-nigh  five-and-twenty  years. 

Next  autumn  Sten  Sture  came  once  more;  and  when 
he  departed  again  he  took  with  him,  in  all  secrecy,  a  little 
child.  'Twas  not  folks'  evil  tongues  I  feared;  but  our 
cause  would  have  suffered  had  it  got  abroad  that  Sten 
Sture  stood  so  near  to  me. 

The  child  was  given  to  Peter  Kanzler  to  rear.  I 
waited  for  better  times,  that  were  soon  to  come.  They 
never  came.  Sten  Sture  took  a  wife  two  years  later  in 
Sweden,  and,  when  he  died,  he  left  a  widow 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
And   with   her  a  lawful   heir  to   his   name   and 


riirhts. 


'O 


Lady  Inger, 

Time  after  time  I  wrote  to  Peter  Kanzler  beseeching 
him  to  give  me  back  my  child.  But  he  was  ever  deaf 
to  my  prayers.  "Cast  in  your  lot  with  us  once  for  all," 
he  said,  "and  I  send  your  son  back  to  Norway;  not  be- 
fore." But  'twas  even  that  I  dared  not  do.  We  of  the 
disaffected  party  were  then  ill  regarded  by  many  tim- 
orous folk  in  the  land.  Had  these  learnt  how  things 
stood — oh,  I  know  it! — to  cripple  the  mother  they  had 
ijladlv  meted  to  the  child  the  fate  that  would  have  been 
King  Christiern's  had  he  not  saved  himself  by  flight.^ 

'  King  Christian  II.  of  Denmark  (the  perpetrator  of  the  massacre 
at  Stockholm  known  as  the  Blood-Bath)  fled  to  Holland  in  1523, 
five  years  before  the  date  assigned  to  this  play,  in  order  to  escape 
death  or  imprisonment  at  the  hands  of  his  rebellious  nobles,  who 
summoned  his  uncle,  Frederick  I.,  to  the  throne.  Returning  to 
Denmark  in  1532,  Christian  was  thrown  into  prison,  where  he  spent 
the  last  twenty-seven  years  of  his  life. 


ACT  IV]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  141 

But,  besides  that,  the  Danes,  too,  were  active.  They 
spared  neither  threats  nor  promises  to  force  me  to  join 
them. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

'Twas  but  reason.  The  eyes  of  all  men  were  fixed 
on  you  as  on  the  vane  that  should  show  them  how  to 
shape  their  course. 

Lady  Inger. 

Then  came  Herlof  Hyttefad's  rising.  Do  you  remem- 
ber that  time,  Olaf  Skaktavl  ?  Was  it  not  as  though  a 
new  spring  had  dawned  over  the  whole  land!  Mighty 
voices  summoned  me  to  come  forth; — yet  I  dared  not.  I 
stood  doubting — far  from  the  strife — in  my  lonely  castle. 
At  times  it  seemed  as  though  the  Lord  God  himself  were 
calling  me;  but  then  would  come  the  killing  dread  again 
to  benumb  my  will.  "Who  will  win.^" — that  was 
the  question  that  was  ever  ringing  in  my  ears. 

'Twas  but  a  short  spring  that  had  come  to  Norway. 
Herlof  Hyttefad,  and  many  more  with  him,  were  broken 
on  the  wheel  during  the  months  that  followed.  None 
could  call  me  to  account;  yet  there  lacked  not  covert 
threats  from  Denmark.  What  if  they  knew  the  secret  ? 
At  last  methought  they  must  know;  I  knew  not  how 
else  to  understand  their  words. 

'Twas  even  in  that  time  of  agony  that  Gyldenlove, 
the  High  Steward,  came  hither  and  sought  me  in  mar- 
riage. Let  any  mother  anguished  for  her  child  think 
herself  in  my  place! — A  month  after,  I  was  the  High 
Steward's  wife — and  homeless  in  the  hearts  of  my  coun- 
trymen. 

Then  came  the  quiet  years.  No  one  raised  his  head 
any  more.     Our  masters  might  grind  us  down  even  as 


142  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

heavily  as  they  listed.  There  were  times  when  I  loathed 
myself;  for  what  had  I  to  do  ?  Nought  but  to  endure 
terror  and  scorn  and  bring  forth  daughters  into  the  world. 
My  daughters!  God  must  forgive  me  if  I  have  had  no 
mother's  heart  towards  them.  My  wifely  duties  were 
as  serfdom  to  me ;  how  then  could  I  love  my  daughters  ? 
Oh,  how  different  with  my  son!  He  was  the  child  of 
my  very  soul.  He  was  the  one  thing  that  brought  to 
mind  the  time  when  I  was  a  woman  and  nought  but  a 
woman. — And  him  they  had  taken  from  me!  He  was 
growing  up  among  strangers,  who  might,  mayhap,  be 
sowing  in  him  the  seed  of  corruption!  Olaf  Skaktavl 
— had  I  wandered,  like  you,  on  the  lonely  hills,  hunted 
and  forsaken,  in  winter  and  storm — if  I  had  but  held  my 
child  in  my  arms, — trust  me,  I  had  not  sorrowed  and 
wept  so  sore  as  I  have  sorrowed  and  wept  for  him  from 
his  birth  even  to  this  hour! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

There  is  my  hand.  I  have  judged  you  too  hardly. 
Lady  Inger!  Command  me  even  as  before;  I  will  obey. 
— Ay,  by  all  the  saints,  I  know  what  it  is  to  sorrow  for 
a  child. 

Lady  Inger. 

Yours  was  slain  by  men  of  blood.  But  what  is  death 
to  the  restless  terror  of  all  these  long  years  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Mark,  then — 'tis  in  your  power  to  end  this  terror. 
You  have  but  to  make  peace  between  the  jarring  fac- 
tions, and  neither  will  think  of  seizing  on  your  child  as 
a  pledge  of  your  faith. 


ACT  IV]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  143 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  Jierself.]  This  is  the  vengeance  of  Heaven. 
[Looks  at  him.]     In  one  word,  what  do  you  demand  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  demand  first  that  you  shall  call  the  people  of  the 
northern  districts  to  arms,  in  support  of  the  disaffected 
in  Sweden. 

Lady  Inger. 
And  next ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

that  you  do  your  best  to  advance  young  Count 

Sture's  ancestral  claim  to  the  throne  of  Sweden. 

Lady  Inger. 
His  ?     You  demand  that  I 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[Softly.]  It  is  the  wish  of  many  Swedes,  and  'twould 
serve  our  turn  too. 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  hesitate,  lady  ?  You  tremble  for  your  son's 
safetv.  What  better  can  vou  wish  than  to  see  his  half- 
brother  on  the  throne  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
[In  thought.]     True— true 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Looks  at  her  sharply.]  Unless  there  be  other  plans 
afoot 


144  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Lady  Inger. 
What  mean  you  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Inger  Gyldenlove  might  have  a  mind  to  be — a  king's 
mother. 

Lady  Inger. 

No,  no!  Give  me  back  my  child,  and  let  who  will 
have  the  crowns. 

But  know  you  so  surely  that  Count  Sture  is  wil- 
ling  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Of  that  he  will  himself  assure  you. 

Lady  Inger. 
Himself  ?     And  when  .'' 

Nils  Lykke. 
Even  now. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
How  now.^ 

Lady  Inger. 
What  say  you  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
In  one  word,  Count  Sture  is  in  OstrS^t. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Here? 


ACT  IV]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  145 

Nils  Lykke. 

[To  Lady  Inger.]  You  have  doubtless  heard  that 
another  rode  through  the  gate  along  with  me  ?  The 
Count  was  my  attendant. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Softly.]  I  am  in  his  power.  I  have  no  longer  any 
choice.  [Looks  at  him  and  says:]  'Tis  well,  Sir  Coun- 
cillor— you  shall  have  full  assurance  of  my  support. 


In  writing? 


Nils  Lykke. 
Lady  Inger. 


As  you  will. 

[Goes  to  the  table  on  the  left,  sits  down,  and  takes  writ- 
ing materials  from  the  drawer. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside,  standing  by  the  table  on  the  right.]  At  last, 
then,  I  win! 

Lady  Inger. 

[After  a  moment's  thought,  turns  suddenly  in  her  chair 
to  Olaf  Skaktavl  and  whispers.]  Olaf  Skaktavl — I 
am  certain  of  it  now — Nils  Lykke  is  a  traitor! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
[Softly.]     What.?     You  think ? 

Lady  Inger. 

He  has  treachery  in  his  heart. 

[Lays  the  paper  before  her  and  dips  the  pen  in  tlie  ink. 


146  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

And  yet  you  would  give  him  a  written  promise  that 
may  be  your  ruin  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

Hush;  leave  me  to  act.     Nay,  wait  and  listen  first 

[Talks  ivith  him  in  a  whisper. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Softly,  watching  them.]  Ah,  take  counsel  together  as 
much  as  ye  list!  All  danger  is  over  now.  With  her 
written  consent  in  my  pocket,  I  can  denounce  her  when- 
ever I  please.  A  secret  message  to  Jens  Bielke  this  very 
night — .  I  tell  him  but  the  truth — that  the  young  Count 
Sture  is  not  at  Ostrat.  And  then  to-morrow,  when  the 
road  is  open — to  Trondhiem  with  my  young  friend,  and 
thence  by  ship  to  Copenhagen  with  him  as  my  pris- 
oner. Once  we  have  him  safe  in  the  castle-tower,  we 
can  dictate  to  Lady  Inger  what  terms  we  will.  And 
I —  ?  After  this,  methinks,  the  King  will  scarce  place  the 
French  mission  in  other  hands  than  mine. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Still  whispering  to  Olaf  Skaktavl.]  Well,  you  un- 
derstand me  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Ay,  fully.     Let  us  make  the  venture,  even  as  you  will. 

[Goes  out  by  the  back,  to  the  right. 

[Nils  Stensson  comes  in  by  the  first  door  on  the  right, 
unseen  by  Lady  Inger,  who  has  begun  to  write. 

Nils  Stensson. 
[In  a  low  voice.]     Sir  Knight, — Sir  Knight! 


ACT  IV]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  147 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Moves  towards  him.]  Rash  boy!  What  would  you 
here  ?  Said  I  not  you  should  wait  within  until  I  called 
you? 

Nils  Stensson. 

How  could  I  ?  Now  you  have  told  me  that  Inger 
Gyldenlove  is  my  mother,  I  thirst  more  than  ever  to  see 
her  face  to  face 

Oh,  it  is  she!  How  proud  and  high  her  mien!  Even 
thus  did  I  ever  picture  her.  Fear  not,  dear  Sir, — I  shall 
do  nought  rashly.  Since  I  have  learnt  this  secret,  I  feel, 
as  it  were,  older  and  wiser.  I  will  no  longer  be  wild 
and  heedless;  I  will  be  even  as  other  well-born  youths. — 
Tell  me,— knows  she  that  I  am  here  ?  Surely  you  have 
prepared  her? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Ay,  sure  enough;  but 

Nils  Stensson. 
Well  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
She  will  not  own  you  for  her  son. 

Nils  Stensson. 

Will  not  own  me  ?  But  she  i  s  my  mother. — Oh,  if 
it  be  that  she  doubts  t  h  a  t — [lakes  out  a  ring  which  he 
wears  on  a  cord  round  his  neck]— show  her  this  ring.  I 
have  worn  it  since  my  earliest  childhood;  she  must  surely 
know  its  history. 


148  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Nils  Lykke. 

Hide  the  ring,  man!     Hide  it,  I  say! 

You  mistake  me.  Lady  Inger  doubts  not  at  all  that 
you  are  her  child;  but — ay,  look  about  you;  look  at  all 
this  wealth;  look  at  these  mighty  forefathers  and  kins- 
men whose  pictures  deck  the  walls  both  high  and  low; 
look  lastly  at  herself,  the  haughty  dame,  used  to  bear 
sway  as  the  first  noblewoman  in  the  kingdom.  Think 
you  it  can  be  to  her  mind  to  take  a  poor  ignorant  youth  by 
the  hand  before  all  men's  eyes  and  say:  Behold  my  son! 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  doubtless  you  are  right.  I  am  poor  and  ignorant. 
I  have  nought  to  offer  her  in  return  for  what  I  crave. 
Oh,  never  have  I  felt  my  poverty  weigh  on  me  till  this 
hour!  But  tell  me — what  think  you  I  should  do  to  win 
her  favour.''     Tell  me,  dear  Sir;  sure  you  must  know! 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  must  win  your  father's  kingdom.  But  until  that 
may  be,  look  well  that  you  wound  not  her  ears  by  hint- 
ing at  kinship  or  the  like.  She  will  bear  her  as  though 
she  believed  you  to  be  the  real  Count  Sture,  until  you 
have  made  yourself  worthy  to  be  called  her  son. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Oh,  but  tell  me ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
Hush:  hush! 

Lady  Inger. 

[Rises  and  hands  him  a  paper.]  Sir  Knight — here  is 
my  promise. 


ACT  IV]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  149 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  thank  you. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Notices    Nils    Stensson.]     Ah,  —  this   young    man 

is ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Ay,  Lady  Inger,  he  is  Count  Sture. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Aside,  looks  at  him  stealthily.]  Feature  for  feature; 
— ay,  by  God, — it  is  Sten  Sture's  son! 

[Approaches  him  and  says  with  cold  courtesy: 

I  bid  you  welcome  under  my  roof,  Count!  It  rests 
with  you  whether  or  not  we  shall  bless  this  meeting  a 
year  hence. 

Nils  Stensson. 

With  me  ?  Oh,  do  but  tell  me  what  I  must  do ! 
Trust  me,  I  have  both  courage  and  will 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Listens  uneasily.]  What  is  this  noise  and  uproar, 
Lady  Inger  .-^  There  are  people  pressing  hitherward. 
What  does  this  mean  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[In  a  loud  voice.]     'Tis  the  spirits  awaking! 

[Olaf  Skaktavl,  Einar  Huk,  Biorn,  Finn,  and  a 
number  of  Peasants  and  Retainers  corns  in  from 
the  back,  on  the  right. 

The  Peasants  and  Retainers. 
Hail  to  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove! 


150  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  Olaf  Skaktavl.]  Have  you  told  them  what  is 
afoot  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

I  have  told  them  all  thev  need  to  know. 

ft/ 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  the  Crowd.]  Ay,  now,  my  faithful  house-folk 
and  peasants,  now  must  ye  arm  you  as  best  you  can 
and  will.  That  which  earlier  to-night  I  forbade  you,  ye 
have  now  my  fullest  leave  to  do.  And  here  I  present  to 
you  the  young  Count  Sture,  the  coming  ruler  of  Sweden 
— and  Norway  too,  if  God  will  it  so. 

The  Whole  Crowd. 

Hail  to  him!     Hail  to  Count  Sture! 

[General  excitement.  The  Peasants  and  Retain- 
ers choose  out  weapons  and  put  on  breastplates  and 
helmets,  amid  great  noise. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Softly  and  uneasily.]  The  spirits  awaking,  she  said  ? 
I  but  feigned  to  conjure  up  the  devil  of  revolt — 'twere  a 
cursed  spite  if  he  got  the  upper  hand  of  us. 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  Nils  Stensson.]  Here  I  give  you  the  first  earn- 
est of  our  service — thirty  mounted  men,  to  follow  you 
as  a  bodyguard.  Trust  me — ere  you  reach  the  fron- 
tier many  hundreds  will  have  ranged  themselves  under 
my  banner  and  yours.     Go,  then,  and  God  be  with  you! 


X 


X 


o 


0) 


o 


ACT  IV]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  151 

Nils  Stensson. 

Thanks, — Inger  Gyldenlove!  Thanks — and  be  sure 
you  shall  never  have  cause  to  shame  you  for — for  Count 
Sture!  If  you  see  me  again,  I  shall  have  won  my  father's 
kingdom. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[To  himself.]     Ay,  if  she  see  you  again! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
The  horses  wait,  good  fellows !     Are  ye  ready ? 

The  Peasants. 
Ay,  ay,  ay! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Uneasily,  to  Lady  Inger.]  What?  You  mean  not 
to-night,  even  now ? 

Lady  Inger. 
This  very  moment,  Sir  Knight! 

Nils  Lykke. 
Nay,  nay,  impossible! 

Lady  Inger. 
I  have  said  it. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Softly,  to  Nils  Stensson.]     Obey  her  not! 

Nils  Stensson. 
How  can  I  do  aught  else  ?     I   will;    I   must! 


152  LADY  INGER   OF  OSTRAT       [act  iv 

Nils  Lykke. 
But  'tis  your  certain  ruin 

Nils  Stensson. 
What  then !     Her   must  I  obey  in  all  things 

Nils  Lykke. 
[With  authority.]     And  me? 

Nils  Stensson. 

I  shall  keep  my  word;  be  sure  of  that.  The  secret 
shall  not  pass  my  lips  till  you  yourself  release  me.  But 
she  is  my  mother! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside.]  And  Jens  Bielke  in  wait  on  the  road !  Dam- 
nation!    He  will  snatch  the  prize  out  of  my  fingers 

[To  Lady  Inger.]     Wait  till  to-morrow! 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  Nils  Stensson.]  Count  Sture — do  you  obey  me 
or  not  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

To  horse!  [Goes  up  toicards  the  background.. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside.]     Unhappy  boy!     He  knows  not  what  he  does. 

[To  Lady  Ingeu. 
Well,  since  so  it  must  be, — farewell! 

[Bows  hastily,  and  begins  to  move  away. 


ACT  IV]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  153 

Lady  Inger. 

[Detains  him.]  Nay,  stay!  Not  so,  Sir  Knight, — 
not  so! 

Nils  Lykke. 
What  mean  you  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[In  a  loio  voice.']  Nils  Lykke — you  are  a  traitor! 
Hush!  Let  no  one  see  there  is  discord  in  the  camp  of 
the  leaders.  You  have  won  Peter  Kanzler's  trust  by 
some  devilish  wile  that  as  yet  is  dark  to  me.  You  have 
forced  me  to  rebellious  acts — not  to  help  our  cause,  but 
to  further  your  own  plots,  whatever  they  may  be.  I 
can  draw  back  no  more.  But  think  not  therefore  that 
you  have  conquered!  I  shall  know  how  to  make  you 
harmless 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Lays  his  hand  involuntarily  on  his  sword^  Lady 
Inger ! 

Lady  Inger. 

Be  calm,  Sir  Councillor!  Your  life  is  safe.  But  you 
come  not  outside  the  gates  of  Ostrat  before  victory  is 
ours. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Death  and  destruction! 

Lady  Inger. 

It  boots  not  to  resist.  You  come  not  from  this  place. 
So  rest  you  quiet;  'tis  your  wisest  course. 


154  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Nils  Lykke. 

[To  himself.]  Ah, — I  am  overreached.  She  has  been 
craftier  than  I.    [A  thought  strikes  him.]    But  if  I  yet ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  Olaf  Skaktavl.]  Ride  with  Count  Sture's 
troops  to  the  frontier;  then  without  pause  to  Peter 
Kanzler,  and  bring  me  back  my  child.  Now  has  he  no 
longer  any  plea  for  keeping  from  me  what  is  my  own. 

[Adds,  as  Olaf  Skaktavl  is  going: 

Wait;  a  token — .  He  that  wears  Sten  Sture's  ring, 
he  is  my  son. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

By  all  the  saints,  you  shall  have  him! 

Lady  Inger. 
Thanks, — thanks,  my  faithful  friend! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[To  Finn,  whom  he  has  beckoned  to  him  unobserved, 
and  with  whom,  he  has  been  ivhispering .]  Good — now 
contrive  to  slip  out.  Let  none  see  you.  The  Swedes 
are  in  ambush  half  a  league  hence.  Tell  the  commander 
that  Count  Sture  is  dead.  The  young  man  you  see  there 
must  on  no  account  be  touched.  Tell  the  commander 
so.     Tell  him  the  boy's  life  is  worth  thousands  to  me. 

Finn. 
It  shall  be  done. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Who  has  meanwhile  been  watching  Nils  Lykke.] 
And  now  go,  all  of  you,  and  God  be  with  you !     [Points 


ACT  IV]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  155' 

to  Nils  Lykke.]  This  noble  knight  cannot  find  it  in  his 
heart  to  leave  his  friends  at  Ostrat  so  hastily.  He  will 
abide  here  with  me  till  the  tidings  of  your  victory  arrive. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[To  himself.]     Devil! 

Nils  Stensson. 

\Seizes  his  hand.]  Trust  me — you  shall  not  have  long- 
to  wait! 

Nils  Lykke. 

It  is  well;  it  is  well!  [Aside.]  All  may  yet  be  saved. 
If  only  my  message  reach  Jens  Bielke  in  time 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  EiNAR  HuK,  the  bailiff,  pointing  to  Finn.]  And 
let  that  man  be  placed  under  close  guard  in  the  castle 
dungeon. 

Finn. 
Me? 

The  Bailiff  and  the  Servants. 
Finn! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside.]     My  last  anchor  gone! 

Lady  Inger, 

[Imperatively.]     To  the  dungeon  with  him! 

[Einar   Huk,  Biorn,  a7id  a  couple   of  tlie   house' 
servants  lead  Finn  out  to  the  left. 


156  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

All  the  Rest. 

[Except  Nils  Lykke,  rushing  oid  to  the  right.']  Away! 
To  horse, — to  horse!     Hail  to  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove! 

Lady  Inger. 

[Passing  close  to  Nils  Lykke  as  she  goes  out  after  the 
others.]     Who  wins  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Remaijis  alo7ie.]  Who.'  Ay,  woe  to  you; — your  vic- 
tory will  cost  you  dear.  /  wash  my  hands  of  it.  'Tis 
not  /  that  am  murdering  him. 

But  my  prey  is  escaping  me  none  the  less;  and  the 
revolt  will  grow  and  spread! — Ah,  'tis  a  foolhardy,  a 
frantic  game  I  have  here  taken  in  hand !  [Listens  at  the 
windoiv.]  There  they  ride  clattering  out  through  the 
gateway. — Now  'tis  closed  after  them — and  I  am  left  here 
a  prisoner. 

No  way  of  escape!  Within  half-an-hour  the  Swedes 
will  be  upon  him.  He  has  thirty  Avell-armed  horsemen 
with  him.     'Twill  be  life  or  death. 

But  if,  after  all,  they  should  take  him  alive .'' — W'ere  I 
but  free,  I  could  overtake  the  Swedes  ere  they  reach  the 
frontier,  and  make  them  deliver  him  up.  [Goes  towards 
tlie  window  in  the  background  and  looks  out.]  Damna- 
tion! Guards  outside  on  every  hand.  Can  there  be  no 
way  of  escape  ? 

[Comes  quickly  forward  again;    suddenly  stops  and 
listens. 

What  is  that  ?  Music  and  singing.  It  seems  to  come 
from  Elina's  chamber.  Ay,  'tis  she  that  is  singing. 
Then  she  is  still  awake [A  thought  seems  to  strike 


ACT  iv]        LADY   IXGER   OF   OSTRAT  157 

him.]  Elina! — Ah,  if  that  could  be!  Were  it  possi- 
ble to —  And  why  should  I  not  ?  Am  I  not  still  mv- 
self?     Says  not  the  song: — 

Fair  maidens  a-many  they  sigh  and  they  pine: 
"Ah  God,  that  Nils  Lykke  were  mine,  mine,  mine." 

And  she —  ? Elina  Gyldenlove  shall  set  me  free  I 

[Goes  quickly  but  stealthily  towards  the  first  door  on 
the  left. 


ACT   FIFTH 

The  Banquet  Hall.     It  is  still  night.     The  hall  is  hut 
dimly  lighted  by  a  branch-candlestick  on  the  table,  in 
front,  on  the  right. 

Lady  Inger  is  sitting  by  the  table,  deep  in  thought. 

Lady  Inger. 

[After  a  pause.]  They  call  me  keen-witted  beyond  all 
others  in  the  land.  I  believe  they  are  right.  The  keen- 
est-witted —  No  one  knows  how  I  became  so.  For 
more  than  twenty  years  I  have  fought  to  save  my  child. 
That  is  the  key  to  the  riddle.  Ay,  that  sharpens  the 
wits! 

Mv  wits  ?  Where  have  thev  flown  to-night  ?  What 
has  become  of  my  forethought  ?  There  is  a  ringing  and 
rushing  in  my  ears.  I  see  shapes  before  me,  so  lifelike 
that  methinks  I  could  lay  hold  on  them.  [Springs  up.] 
Lord  Jesus— what  is  this.''     Am  I  no  longer  mistress  of 

my  reason  ?     Is  it  to  come  to  that .''     [Presses  her 

clasped  hands  over  Iter  head;  sits  down  again,  and  says 
more  calmly:]  Nay,  'tis  nought.  'Twill  pass.  There  is 
no  fear; — it  will  pass. 

How  peaceful  it  is  in  the  hall  to-night!  No  threaten- 
ing looks  from  forefathers  or  kinsfolk.  No  need  to  turn 
their  faces  to  the  wall.  [Rises  again.]  Ay,  'twas  well 
that  I  took  heart  at  last.  We  shall  conquer; — and  then 
am  I  at  the  goal  of  all  my  longings.     I  shall  have  my 

158 


ACTV]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  159 

child  again.  [Takes  up  the  light  as  if  to  go,  but  stops 
and  says  musingly:]  At  the  goal  ?  The  goal  ?  To  have 
him  back  ?  Is  that  all  ? — is  there  nought  further  ?  [Sets 
the  light  down  on  the  table.]  That  heedless  word  that  Nils 
Lykke  threw  forth  at  random — .  How  could  he  see  my 
unborn  thought  ?  [More  softly. 

A  king's  mother?  A  king's  mother,  he  said —  And 
why  not  ?  Have  not  my  fathers  before  me  ruled  as  kings, 
even  though  they  bore  not  the  kingly  name  ?  Has  not 
my  son  as  good  a  title  as  the  other  to  the  rights  of  the 
house  of  Sture  ?  In  the  sight  of  God  he  has — if  so  be 
there  is  justice  in  Heaven. 

And  in  an  hour  of  terror  I  have  signed  away  his  rights. 
I  have  recklessly  squandered  them,  as  a  ransom  for  his 
freedom. 

If  they  could  be  recovered .'' — Would  Heaven  be 
angered,  if  I —  ?  Would  it  call  down  fresh  troubles  on 
my  head  if  I  were  to —  ?  Who  knows; — who  knows!  It 
may  be  safest  to  refrain.  [Takes  up  the  light  again ^^  I 
shall  have  my  child  again.  That  must  content  me.  I 
will  try  to  rest.  All  these  desperate  thoughts, — I  will 
sleep  them  away. 

[Goes  towards  the  back,  but  stops  in  the  middle  of  the 
hall,  and  says  broodingly: 
A  king's  mother! 

[Goes  slowly  out  at  the  back,  to  tlw  left. 

[After    a    short    pause.    Nils    Lykke    and    Elina 

Gyldenlove  enter  noiselessly  by  the  first  door  on 

the  left.     Nils  Lykke  has  a  sm^all  lantern  in  his 

hand. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Throws  the  light  from  his  lantern  around,  so  as  to 
search  the  room,.]     All  is  still.     I  must  begone. 


160  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

Elina. 

Oh,  let  me  look  but  once  more  into  your  eyes,  before 
you  leave  me. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Embraces  her.]     Elina  I 

Elina. 

[After  a  short  pause.]  Will  you  come  nevermore  to 
Ostrat  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

How  can  you  doubt  that  I  will  come  ?  Are  you  not 
henceforth  my  betrothed  ? — But  wull  you  be  true  to 
m  e ,  Elina  ?    Will  you  not  forget  me  ere  we  meet  again  ? 

Elina. 

Do  you  ask  if  I  will  be  true  ?  Have  I  any  will  left 
then  ?  Have  I  power  to  be  untrue  to  you,  even  if  I 
would  ? — You  came  by  night;  you  knocked  upon  my  door; 
— and  I  opened  to  you.  You  spoke  to  me.  What  was  it 
you  said  ?  You  gazed  in  my  eyes.  What  was  the  mys- 
tic might  that  turned  my  brain,  and  lured  me  as  into  a 
magic  net.^  [Hides  Iter  face  on  his  shoulder.]  Oh,  look 
not  on  me.  Nils  Lykke!  You  must  not  look  upon  me 
after  this —  True,  say  you  ?  Do  you  not  own  me  ?  I 
am  yours; — I   must   be  yours — to  all  eternity. 

Nils  IvYkke. 

Now,  by  my  knightly  honour,  ere  the  year  be  past,  you 
shall  sit  as  my  wife  in  the  hall  of  my  fathers! 


ACTV]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  161 

Elina. 
No  vows,  Nils  Lykke!     No  oaths  to  me. 

Nils  Lykke. 

What  ails  you?  Why  do  you  shake  your  head  so 
mournfully  ? 

Elina. 

Because  I  know  that  the  same  soft  w^ords  wherewith 
you  turned  my  brain,  you  have  whispered  to  so  many  a 
one  before.  Nay,  nay,  be  not  angry,  my  beloved!  In 
nowise  do  I  reproach  you,  as  I  did  while  yet  I  knew 
you  not.  Now  I  understand  how  high  above  all  others 
is  your  goal.  How  can  love  be  aught  to  y  o  u  but  a 
pastime,  or  woman  but  a  toy .'' 

Nils  Lykke. 
Elina, — hear  me! 

Elina. 

As  I  grew  up,  your  name  was  ever  in  my  ears.  I 
hated  the  name,  for  meseemed  that  all  women  were  dis- 
honoured by  your  life.  And  yet, — how  strange! — when 
I  built  up  in  my  dreams  the  life  that  should  be  mine, 
you  were  ever  my  hero,  though  I  knew  it  not.  Now  I 
understand  it  all.  What  was  it  that  I  felt?  It  was  a 
foreboding,  a  mysterious  longing  for  you,  you  only  one 
— for  you  that  were  one  day  to  come  and  reveal  to  me 
all  the  glory  of  life. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside,  putting  down  the  lantern  on  the  table."]  How  is 
it  with  me  ?     This  dizzy  fascination — .     If  this  it  be  to 


162  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

love,  then  have  I  never  known  it  till  this  hour. — Is  there 
not  yet  time — ?     Oh  horror — Lucia! 

[Sinks  into  the  chair. 

Elina. 
What  is  amiss  with  you  ?     So  heavy  a  sigh 


Nils  Ltkke. 


O,  'tis  nought, — nought! 

Elina, — now  will  I  confess  all  to  you.  I  have  beguiled 
many  with  both  words  and  glances;  I  have  said  to  many 
a  one  what  I  whispered  to  you  this  night.  But  trust 
me 

Elina. 

Hush!  No  more  of  that.  My  love  is  no  exchange  for 
that  you  give  me.  No,  no;  I  love  you  because  your 
every  glance  commands  it  like  a  king's  decree.  [Lies 
dotvn  at  his  feet.]  Oh,  let  me  once  more  stamp  that 
kingly  mandate  deep  into  my  soul,  though  well  I  know 
it  stands  imprinted  there  for  all  time  and  eternity. 

Dear  God — how  little  I  have  known  myself!  'Twas 
but  to-night  I  said  to  my  mother:  "My  pride  is  my  life." 
And  what  is  now  my  pride  ?  Is  it  to  know  my  country- 
men free,  or  my  house  held  in  honour  throughout  many 
lands.?  Oh,  no,  no!  My  love  is  my  pride.  The  little 
dog  is  proud  when  he  may  sit  by  his  master's  feet  and 
eat  bread-crumbs  from  his  hand.  Even  so  am  I  proud, 
so  long  as  I  may  sit  at  your  feet,  while  your  looks  and 
your  words  nourish  me  with  the  bread  of  life.  See, 
therefore,  I  say  to  you,  even  as  I  said  but  now  to  my 
mother:  "My  love  is  my  life;"  for  therein  lies  all  my 
pride,  now  and  evermore. 


ACTV]         LADY  INGER   OF  OSTRAT  163 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Raises  her  up  on  his  lap.]  Nay,  nay — not  at  my  feet, 
but  at  my  side  is  your  place, — how  high  soever  fate  may 
exalt  me.  Ay,  Elina — you  have  led  me  into  a  better 
path;  and  should  it  one  day  be  granted  me  to  atone  by 
a  deed  of  fame  for  the  sins  of  my  reckless  youth,  then 
shall  the  honour  be  yours  and  mine  together. 

Elina. 

Ah,  you  speak  as  though  I  were  still  that  Elina  who 
but  this  evening  flung  down  the  flowers  at  your  feet. 

I  have  read  in  my  books  of  the  many-coloured  life  in 
far-off  lands.  To  the  winding  of  horns,  the  knight  rides 
forth  into  the  greenwood,  with  his  falcon  on  his  wrist. 
Even  so  do  you  go  your  way  through  life; — your  name 
rings  out  before  you  whithersoever  you  fare. — All  that 
/  desire  of  the  glory,  is  to  rest  like  the  falcon  on  your 
arm.  Like  him  was  I,  too,  blind  to  light  and  life,  till 
you  loosed  the  hood  from  my  eyes  and  set  me  soaring 
high  over  the  tree-tops. — But  trust  me — bold  as  my 
flight  may  be,  yet  shall  I  ever  turn  back  to  my  cage. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Rises.]  Then  will  I  bid  defiance  to  the  past!  See 
now; — take  this  ring,  and  be  mine  before  God  and 
men — m  i  n  e  , — ay,  though  it  should  trouble  the  dreams 
of  the  dead. 

Elina. 
You  make  me  tremble.     What  is  it  that ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

'Tis  nought.  Come,  let  me  place  the  ring  on  your 
finger. — Even  so — now  are  you  my  betrothed ! 


164  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

Elina. 

/  Nils  Lykke's  bride!  It  seems  but  a  dream,  all  that 
has  befallen  this  night.  Oh,  but  so  fair  a  dream!  My 
breast  is  so  light.  No  longer  is  there  bitterness  and 
hatred  in  my  soul.  I  will  atone  to  all  whom  I  have 
wronged.  I  have  been  unloving  to  my  mother.  To- 
morrow will  I  go  to  her;  she  must  forgive  me  where  I 
have  erred. 

Nils  Lykke. 

And  give  her  consent  to  our  bond. 

Elina. 

That  will  she.  Oh,  I  am  sure  she  will.  My  mother  is 
kind;  all  the  world  is  kind; — I  can  no  longer  feel  hatred 
for  any  living  soul — save   one. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Save   one? 

Elina. 
Ah,  'tis  a  mournful  history.     I  had  a  sister 

Nils  Lykke. 
Lucia  ? 

Elina. 
Did  you  know  Lucia? 

Nils  Lykke. 
No,  no;  I  have  but  heard  her  name. 

Elina. 

She  too  gave  her  heart  to  a  knight.  He  betrayed  her; 
— now  she  is  in  Heaven. 


ACT  V]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  165 

Nils  Lykke. 
And  you 

Elina. 
I  hate  him. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Hate  him  not!  If  there  be  mercy  in  your  heart,  for- 
give him  his  sin.  Trust  me,  he  bears  his  punishment  in 
his  own  breast. 

Elina. 

Him  will  I  never  forgive !  I  cannot,  even  if  I 
would;  for  I  have  sworn  so  dear  an  oath [Listen- 
ing.]    Hush!     Can  you  hear ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
What  ?     Where  ? 

Elina. 

Without;  far  off.  The  noise  of  many  horsemen  on  the 
high-road. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Ah,  'tis  they  !  And  I  had  forgotten — !  They  are 
coming  hither.  Then  is  the  danger  great!  I  must  be- 
gone! 

Elina. 

But  whither?  Oh,  Nils  Lykke,  what  are  you  hid- 
ing  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

To-morrow,  Elina — ;  for  as  God  lives,  I  will  return 
to-morrow. — Quickly  now — where  is  the  secret  passage 
whereof  you  told  me  ? 


166  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

Elina. 

Through  the  grave- vault.  See, — here  is  the  trap- 
door  

Nils  Lykke. 

The  grave- vault !  [To  himself.]  No  matter,  he  m  u  s  t 
be  saved! 

Elina. 

[By  the  windoiv.]  The  horsemen  have  reached  the 
gate [Hands  him  the  lantern. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Oh,  then [Begins  to  descend. 

Elina. 

Go  forward  along  the  passage  till  you  reach  the  cof- 
fin with  the  death's-head  and  the  black  cross;  it  is 
Lucia's 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Clim,bs  back  hastily  and  shuts  the  trap-door.]  Lucia's! 
Pah ! 

Elina. 
What  said  you  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Nay,  nothing.  'Twas  the  air  of  the  graves  that  made 
me  dizzy. 

Elina. 
Hark;    they  are  hammering  at  the  gate! 


ACT  V]         LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT  167 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Lets  the  lantern  fall.]     Ah!   too  late ! 

[BioRN  enters  hurriedly  from  the  right,  carrying  a 
light. 

Elina. 

[Goes  towards  him.]     What  is  amiss,  Biorn?     What 
is  it? 

Biorn. 
An  ambuscade!     Count  Sture 


Elina. 
Count  Sture  ?     What  of  him  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Have  they  killed  him  ? 

Biorn. 
[To  Elina.]     Where  is  your  mother  ? 

Two  Retainers. 

[Rushing  in  from  the  right.]  Lady  Inger!  Lady 
Inger ! 

[Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove  enters  by  the  furthest 
back  door  on  the  left,  with  a  branch-candlestick, 
lighted,  in  her  hand,  and  says  quickly: 

Lady  Inger. 

I  know  all.  Down  with  you  to  the  courtyard!  Keep 
the  gate  open  for  our  friends,  but  closed  against  all 
others! 


168  LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT         [act  v 

[Puts  down  the  candlestick  on  the  table  to  the  left. 
BioRN  and  the  two  Retainers  go  out  again  to  the 
right. 

Lady  Inger. 

\To  Nils  Lykke.]  So  that  was  the  trap,  Sir 
Councillor! 

Nils  Lykke, 
Inger  Gyldenlove,  believe  me ! 

Lady  Inger, 

An  ambuscade  that  was  to  snap  him  up  as  soon  as 
you  had  secured  the  promise  that  should  destroy  me! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Takes  out  tJie  paper  and  tears  it  to  pieces.]  There  is 
your  promise,  I  keep  nothing  that  can  bear  witness 
against  you. 


What  is  this  ? 


Lady  Inger, 


Nils  Lykke, 


From  this  hour  will  I  put  your  thoughts  of  me  to  shame. 
If  I  have  sinned  against  you, — by  Heaven  I  will  strive  to 
repair  my  crime.  But  now  I  must  out,  if  I  have  to 
hew  my  way  through  the  gate ! — Elina — tell  your  mother 
all! — And  you.  Lady  Inger,  let  our  reckoning  be  for- 
gotten! Be  generous — and  silent!  Trust  me,  ere  dawn 
of  day  you  shall  owe  me  a  life's  gratitude. 

[Goes  out  quickly  to  the  right. 


ACT  V]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  169 

Lady  Inger. 

[Looks  after  him  ivith  exultation,]     'Tis  well!     I  un- 
derstand him.  [Turns  to  Elina. 
Nils  Lykke—  ?     Well ? 

Elina. 

He  knocked  upon  my  door,  and  set  this  ring  upon  my 
finger. 

Lady  Inger 
And  from  his  soul  he  holds  you  dear  ? 

Elina. 
He  has  said  so,  and  I  believe  him. 

Lady  Inger 

Bravely  done,  Elina!  Ha-ha,  Sir  Knight,  now  is  it  my 
turn! 

Elina. 

My  mother — you  are  so  strange.  Ah,  yes — I  know — 
'tis  my  unloving  ways  that  have  angered  you. 

Lady  Inger. 

Not  so,  dear  Elina!  You  are  an  obedient  child.  You 
have  opened  your  door  to  him;  you  have  hearkened  to 
his  soft  words.  I  know  full  well  what  it  must  have  cost 
you;   for  I  know  your  hatred 

Elina. 
But,  my  mother 


170  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

Lady  Inger. 

Hush!  We  have  played  into  each  other's  hands.  What 
wiles  did  you  use,  my  subtle  daughter?  I  saw  the  love 
shine  out  of  his  eyes.  Hold  him  fast  now !  Draw  the  net 
closer  and  closer  about  him;  and  then —  Ah,  Elina,  if 
we  could  but  rend  asunder  his  perjured  heart  within  his 
breast ! 

Elina. 

Woe  is  me — what  is  it  you  say? 

Lady  Inger. 

Let  not  your  courage  fail  you.  Hearken  to  me.  I 
know  a  word  that  will  keep  you  firm.  Know  then — 
[Listening.]  They  are  fighting  before  the  gate.  Cour- 
age! Now  comes  the  pinch!  [Ttirns  again  to  Elina.] 
Know  then :  Nils  Lykke  was  the  man  that  brought  your 
sister  to  her  grave. 

Elina. 

[With  a  shriek.]     Lucia! 

Lady  Inger. 
He  it  was,  as  truly  as  there  is  an  Avenger  above  us! 

Elina. 
Then  Heaven  be  with  me! 

Lady  Inger. 
[Appalled.]     Elina ? ! 

Elina. 
I  am  his  bride  in  the  sight  of  God. 


ACTV]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  171 

Lady  Inger. 
Unhappy  child, — what  have  you  done? 

Elina. 

[In  a  toneless  voice.]  Made  shipwreck  of  my  soul. — 
Good-night,  my  mother!  [She  goes  out  to  tJie  left. 

Lady  Inger. 

Ha-ha-ha !  It  goes  down-hill  apace  with  Inger  Gylden- 
love's  house.      There   went  the  last  of  my  daughters. 

Why  could  I  not  keep  silence  "^  Had  she  known 
nought,  it  may  be  she  had  been  happy — after  a  kind. 

It  w  a  s  to  be  so.  It  is  written  up  yonder  in  the  stars 
that  I  am  to  break  off  one  green  branch  after  another  till 
the  trunk  stand  leafless  at  last. 

'Tis  well,  'tis  well!  I  shall  have  my  son  again.  Of 
the  others,  of  my  daughters,  I  will  not  think. 

My  reckoning .''  To  face  my  reckoning  ? — It  falls  not 
due  till  the  last  great  day  of  wrath. — T  hat  comes  not 
yet  awhile. 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Calling from  outside  on  the  right.]     Ho — shut  the  gate! 

Lady  Inger. 
Count  Sture's  voice ! 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Rushes  in,  unarmed,  and  with  his  clothes  torn,  and 
shouts  with  a  laugh  of  desperation.]  Well  met  again, 
Inger  Gyldenlove! 


172  LADY   IXGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

Lady  Inger. 
What  have  you  lost  ? 

Nils  Stexsson. 
My  kingdom  and  my  hfe! 

Lady  Inger. 
And  the  peasants  ?     My  servants  ? — where  are  they  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

You  will  find  the  carcasses  along  the  highway.     Who 
has  the  rest,  I  cannot  tell  you. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
[Outside  on  the  right.]     Count  Sture!     Where  are  you  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Here,  here! 

[Olaf   Skaktavl   comes   in    with   his   right   hand 
wrapped  in  a  clout. 

Lady  Inger. 
Alas,  Olaf  Skaktavl,  you  too ! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
'Twas  impossible  to  break  through. 

Lady  Inger. 
You  are  wounded,  I  see! 

Ol.^f  Skaktavl. 
A  finger  the  less;    that  is  all. 


ACT  V]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  173 

Nils  Stensson. 
Where  are  the  Swedes  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
At  our  heels.     They  are  breaking  open  the  gate 

Nils  Stensson. 
Oh,  God !     No,  no !     I  c  a  n  n  o  t — I  will  not  die. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

A  hiding-place,  Lady  Inger!     Is  there  no  corner  where 
we  can  hide  him  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

But  if  they  search  the  castle ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  ay;    they  will  find  me!     And  then  to  be  dragged 

away  to  prison,  or  be   strung   up !     No,   no,   Inger 

Gyldenlove, — I  know  full  well, — you  will  never  suffer 
that  to  be! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[Listening.]     There  burst  the  lock. 

Lady  Inger. 
[At  the  vnndow.]     Many  men  rush  in  at  the  gateway. 

Nils  Stensson. 

And   to   lose   my  life    now!      Now,  when   my  true 
life   was   but   beginning!     Now,  when   I  have  so  lately 


174  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

learnt  that  I  have  aught  to  live  for.  No,  no,  no ! — Think 
not  I  am  a  coward,  Inger  Gyldenlove!  Might  I  but 
have  time  to  show 

Lady  Inger. 

I  hear  them  now  in  the  hall  below. 

[Firmly  to  Olaf  Skaktavl, 
He   must   be  saved — cost  what  it  will ! 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Seizes  her  hand.]     Oh,  I  knew  it; — you  are  noble  and 
good! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

But  how  ?     Since  we  cannot  hide  him 

Nils  Stensson. 
Ah,  I  have  it!     I  have  it!     The  secret ! 

Lady  Inger. 
The  secret  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Even  so;  yours  and  mine! 

Lady  Inger. 
Merciful  Heaven — you  know  it  ? 

Nils  Stensson.    . 
From  first  to  last.     And  now  when  'tis  life  or  death — 
Where  is  Nils  Lykke  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
Fled. 


ACT  V]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  175 

Nils  Stexssox. 

Fled?  Then  God  help  me;  for  he  alone  can  unseal 
my  lips. — But  what  is  a  promise  against  a  life!  ^Yhen 
the  Swedish  captain  comes 

Lady  Ixger, 
What  then  ?     What  will  vou  do  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Purchase  life  and  freedom; — tell  him  all. 

Lady  Ixger. 
Oh  no,  no; — be  merciful  I 

Nils  Stexssox. 

Nought  else  can  save  me.  When  I  have  told  him 
what  I  know 

Lady  Ixger. 

[Looks  at  him  with  suppressed  agitation.]  You  will  be 
saie :' 

Nils  Stexssox. 

Ay,  safe!  Nils  Lykke  will  speak  for  me.  You  see, 'tis 
the  last  resource. 

Lady  Ixger. 

[Composedly,  icith  emphasis.]  The  last  resource.'^ 
Right,  right — the  last  resource  all  are  free  to  try.  [Points 
to  the  left.]     See,  meanwhile  you  can  hide  in  there. 

Nils  Stexssox. 

[In  a  loiv  voice.]  Trust  me — you  will  never  repent  of 
this. 


176  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

Lady  Inger. 

[Half  to  herself.]     God  grant  that  you  speak  the  truth ! 
[Nils  Stensson  goes  out  hastily  by  the  furthest  door 
on  the  left.     Olaf    Skaktavl  is  folloioing;  hut 
Lady  Inger  detains  him. 

Lady  Inger. 
Did  you  understand  his  meaning  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

The  dastard !  He  would  betray  your  secret.  He  would 
sacrifice  your  son  to  save  himself. 

Lady  Inger. 

When  life  is  at  stake,  he  said,  we  must  try  the  last  re- 
source.— 'Tis  well,  Olaf  Skaktavl, — let  it  be  as  he  has 
said! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
What  mean  you  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
Life  against  life!     One  of  them  must  perish. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Ah — you  would ? 

Lady  Inger. 

If  we  close  not  the  lips  of  him  that  is  within  ere  he 
come  to  speech  with  the  Swedish  captain,  then  is  my 
son  lost  to  me.  But  if,  on  the  other  hand,  he  he  swept 
from  my  path,  when  the  time  comes  I  can  claim  all  his 


ACTV]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  177 

rights  for  my  own  child.  Then  shall  you  see  that  Inger 
Ottisdaughter  has  metal  in  her  yet.  Of  this  be  assured 
— you  shall  not  have  long  to  wait  for  the  vengeance  you 
have  thirsted  after  for  twenty  years. — Hark!  They  are 
coming  up  the  stairs!  Olaf  Skaktavl, — it  lies  with  you 
whether  to-morrow  I  shall  be  no  more  than  a  childless 


woman,  or- 


Olaf  Skaktavl. 


So  be  it!  I  have  yet  one  sound  hand  left.  [Gives  her 
his  hand.]  Inger  Gyldenlove — your  name  shall  not  die 
out  through  me. 

[Follows  Nils  Stensson  into  the  inner  room. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Pale  and  trembling.]     But  dare  I ? 

[A   noise  is   heard  in  the  room;  she  rushes  with  a 
scream  towards  the  door. 
No,  no, — it  must  not  be! 

[A  heavy  fall  is  heard  within;  she  covers  her  ears 
with  her  hands  and  hurries  back  across  the  hall 
with  a  wild  look.  After  a  pause  she  takes  her  hands 
cautiously  away,  listens  again,  and  says  softly: 

Now  it  is  over.     All  is  still  within 

Thou  sawest  it,  God — I  repented  me!  But  Olaf 
Skaktavl  was  too  swift  of  hand. 

[Olaf  Skaktavl  comes  silently  into  tlie  hall. 

Lady  Inger. 
[After  a  pause,  without  looking  at  himi\    Is  it  done  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
You  need  fear  him  no  more;    he  will  betray  no  one. 


178  LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT         [act  v 

Lady  Inger. 
[-4s  before.]     Then  he  is  dumb  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Six  inches  of  steel  in  his  breast.     I  felled  him  with  my 
left  hand. 

Lady  Inger. 

Ay,  ay — the  right  was  too  good  for  such  work. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

That  is  your   affair; — the  thought  was  yours. — And 
now  to  Sweden !     Peace  be  with  you  meanwhile !     When 
next  we  meet  at  Ostrat,  I  shall  bring  another  with  me. 
^Goes  out  by  the  furthest  door  on  the  right. 

Lady  Inger. 

Blood  on  my  hands.     Then  'twas  to  come  to  that! — 
He  begins  to  be  dear-bought  now. 

[Biorn  comes  in,  with  a  number  of  Swedish  Men-at- 
Arms,  by  the  first  door  on  the  right. 

One  of  the  Men-at-Arms. 
Pardon,  if  you  are  the  lady  of  the  house 

Lady  Inger. 
Is  it  Count  Sture  ye  seek  ? 

The  Man-at-Arms. 
The  same. 

Lady  Inger. 

Then  you  are  on  the  right  track.     The  Count  has 
sought  refuge  with  me. 


ACT  V]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  17D 

The  Man-at-Arms. 

Refuge  ?  Pardon,  my  noble  lady, — you  have  no  power 
to  harbour  him;  for 

Lady  Inger. 

That  the  Count  himself  has  doubtless  understood ;  and 
therefore  he  has — ay,  look  for  yourselves — therefore  he 
has  taken  his  own  life. 

The  Man-at-Arms. 
His  own  life! 

Lady  Inger. 

Look  for  yourselves,  I  say.  You  will  find  the  corpse 
within  there.  And  since  he  already  stands  before  another 
judge,  it  is  my  prayer  that  he  may  be  borne  hence  with  all 
the  honour  that  beseems  his  noble  birth. — Biorn,  you 
know  my  own  cofiin  has  stood  ready  this  many  a  year 
in  the  secret  chamber.  [To  the  Men- at- Arms.]  I  pray 
that  in  it  you  will  bear  Count  Sture's  body  to  Sweden. 

The  Man-at-Arms. 

It  shall  be  as  you  command.  [To  one  of  the  others.] 
Haste  with  these  tidings  to  Jens  Bielke.  He  holds  the 
road   with  the   rest   of  the  troop.     We  others   must  in 

and 

[One  of  the  Men- at- Arms  goes  out  to  the  right;  the 
others  go  with  Biorn  into  the  room  on  the  left. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Moves  about  for  a  time  in  uneasy  siletice.]  If  Count 
Sture  had  not  taken  such  hurried  leave  of  the  world, 


180  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

within  a  month  he  had  hung  on  a  gallows,  or  had  lain 
for  all  his  days  in  a  dungeon.  Had  he  been  better 
served  with  such  a  lot  ? 

Or  else  he  had  bought  his  life  by  betraying  my  child 
into  the  hands  of  my  foes.  Is  it  /,  then,  that  have 
slain  him  ?  Does  not  even  the  wolf  defend  her  cubs  ? 
Who  dare  condemn  me  for  striking  my  claws  into  him 
that  would  have  reft  me  of  my  flesh  and  blood  ? — It  had 
to  be.  No  mother  but  would  have  done  even  as  I. 
-  But  'tis  no  time  for  idle  musings  now.     I  must  to  work. 

[Sits  down  by  the  table  on  the  left. 

I  will  write  to  all  my  friends  throughout  the  land. 
They  must  rise  as  one  man  to  support  the  great  cause. 

A  new  king, — regent  first,  and  then  king [Begins  to 

write,  but  falls  into  thought,  and  says  softly:]  Who  will  be 
chosen  in  the  dead  man's  place  ? — A  king's  mother —  ? 
'Tis  a  fair  word.  It  has  but  one  blemish — the  hateful 
likeness  to  another  word. — King's  mother  and — 
king's  m  u  r  d  e  r  e  r^ — King's  murderer — one  that  takes 
a  king's  life.  King's  mother — one  that  gives  a  king 
life.  [She  rises. 

Well,  then;  I  will  make  good, what  I  have  taken. — My 
son  shall  be  a  king! 

[She  sits  down  again  and  begins  writing,  but  fushes 
the  paper  away  again,  and  leans  back  in  her  chair. 

There  is  ever  an  eerie  feeling  in  a  house  where  lies  a 
corpse.  'Tis  therefore  my  mood  is  so  strange.  [Turns 
her  head  to  one  side  as  if  speaking  to  some  one.]  Not 
therefore  ?     Why  else  should  it  be  .''  [Broodingly . 

Is  there  such  a  great  gulf,  then,  between  openly  striking 
down  a  foe  and  slaying  one  thus  ?  Knut  Alfson  had 
cleft  many  a  brow  with  his  sword;    yet  was  his  own  as 

'  The  words  in  the  original  are  "  Kongemoder "  and  "  Konge- 
morder,"  a  difference  of  one  letter  only. 


ACT  V]        LADY    INGER    OF    OSTRAT  181 

peaceful  as  a  child's.  Why  then  do  I  ever  see  this— 
[makes  a  motion  as  though  striking  with  a  knife] — this  stab 
in  the  heart — and  the  gush  of  red  blood  after  ?  [Rings, 
and  goes  on  speaking  ivhile  shifting  about  her  papers.] 
Hereafter  I  will  have  nought  to  do  with  such  ugly  sights. 
I  will  be  at  work  both  day  and  night.  And  in  a  month — 
in  a  month  mv  son  will  be  here 

BlORX. 

[Entering.]     Did  you  strike  the  bell,  my  lady  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[Writing.]  Bring  more  lights.  See  to  it  in  future  that 
there  are  many  lights  in  the  room. 

[BioRN  goes  out  again  to  the  left. 

Lady  Inger. 

[After  a  pause,  rises  impetuously.]  No,  no,  no; — I  can- 
not guide  the  pen  to-night!     My  head  is  burning  and 

throbbing [Startled,   listens.]       What    is    that? 

Ah,  they  are  screwing  the  lid  on  the  coffin. 

They  told  me  when  I  was  a  child  the  story  of  Sir 
Aage,^  who  rose  up  and  walked  with  his  coffin  on  his 
back. — If  h  e  in  there  bethoug-ht  him  one  night  to  come 
with  the  coffin  on  his  back,  and  thank  me  for  the  loan  ? 
[Laughs  quietly.]  H'm — what  have  we  grown  people  to 
do  with  childish  fancies.^  [Vehemently.]  Nevertheless, 
such  stories  do  no  good!  They  give  uneasy  dreams. 
When  my  son  is  king,  they  shall  be  forbidden. 

[Paces  up  and  down  once  or  twice;  then  opens  the 
window. 

^  Pronounce  Oaghe. 


182  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

How  long  is  it,  commonly,  ere  a  body  begins  to  rot  ? 
All  the  rooms  must  be  aired.  'Tis  not  wholesome  here 
till  that  be  done. 

[BioRN  comes  in  with  two  lighted  branch-candlesticks, 
which  he  places  on  the  tables. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Who  has  set  to  work  at  the  papers  again.]  It  is  well. 
See  you  forget  not  what  I  have  said.  Many  lights  on 
the  table! 

What  are  they  about  now  in  there  ? 

BlORN. 

They  are  still  screwing  down  the  coffin-lid. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Writing.]     Are  they  screwing  it  down    tight  ? 

BlORN. 

As  tight  as  need  be. 

Lady  Inger. 

Ay,  ay — who  can  tell  how  tight  it  needs  to  be  ?  Do 
you  see  that  'tis  well  done.  [Goes  up  to  him  with  her 
hand  full  of  papers,  and  says  mysteriously:]  Biorn,  you 
are  an  old  man;  but  one  counsel  I  will  give  you.  Be 
on  your  guard  against  all  men — both  those  that  are 
dead  and  those  that  are  still  to  die. — Now  go  in — go  in 
and  see  to  it  that  they  screw  the  lid  down  tightly. 

Biorn. 

[Softly,  shaking  his  head.]     I  cannot  make  her  out. 

[Goes  back  again  into  the  room  on  the  left. 


ACTV]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  183 

Lady  Inger. 

[Begins  to  seal  a  letter,  hut  throws  it  down  half-closed; 
walks  up  and  down  awhile,  and  then  says  vehemently:^ 
Were  I  a  coward  I  had  never  done  it — never  to  all 
eternity!  Were  I  a  coward,  1  had  shrieked  to  myself: 
Refrain,  while  there  is  yet  a  shred  of  hope  for  the  saving 
of  thy  soul! 

[Her  eye  falls  on  Sten  Sture^s  picture;   sJie  turns  to 
avoid  seeing  it,  and  says  softly: 
He  is  laughing  down  at  me  as  though  he  were  alive! 
Pah! 

[Turns  the  picture  to  the  wall  without  looking  at  it. 
Wherefore  did  you  laugh  ?     Was  it  because  I  did  evil 
to  your  son  ?     But  the  other, — is  not  he  your  son  too  ? 
And  he  is  mine   as  well;   mark  that! 

[Glances  stealthily  along  the  row  of  pictures. 

So  wild  as  they  are  to-night,  I  have  never  seen  them 

yet.     Their  eyes  follow  me  wherever  I  may  go.     [Stamps 

on  the  floor. ^     I  will  not  have  it!     I  will  have  peace  in  my 

house!     [Begins  to  turn  all  the  pictures  to  the  walll\     Ay, 

if  it  were  the  Holy  Virgin  herself Thinkest  thou 

now    is   the   time ?     W^hy   didst  thou   never  hear 

my  prayers,  my  burning  prayers,  that  I  might  have  my 
child  again  ^     Why  }     Because  the  monk  of  Wittenberg 
is  right:    There  is  no  mediator  between  God  and  man! 
[She  draws  her  breath  heavily,  and  continu£s  in  ever- 
increasing  distraction. 
'Tis  well  that  I  know  what  to  think  in  such  things. 
There  was  no  one  to  see  what  was  done  in  there.     There 
is  none  to  bear  witness  against  me. 

[Suddenly  stretches  out  her  hands  and  ivhispers : 

My  son!     My  beloved  child!     Come  to  me!     Here  I 

am! — Hush!     I  will  tell  you  something:    They  hate  me 


184  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

up  there — beyond  the  stars — because  I  bore  you  into  the 
world.  'Twas  their  will  that  I  should  bear  the  Lord 
God's  standard  over  all  the  land.  But  I  went  my  own 
way.     That  is  why  I  have  had  to  suffer  so  much  and  so 

long. 

BlORN. 

[Comes  from  the  room  on  the  left.]  My  lady,  I  have  to 
tell  you —     Christ  save  me — what  is  this  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[Has  climbed  up  into  the  high-seat  by  the  right-hand 
vjalL]  Hush!  Hush!  I  am  the  King's  mother.  My 
son  has  been  chosen  king.  The  struggle  was  hard  ere  it 
came  to  this — for  'twas  with  the  Almighty  One  himself  I 
had  to  strive. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Comes  in  breathless  from  the  right.]  He  is  saved! 
I  have  Jens  Bielke's  promise.  Lady  Inger, — know 
that 

Lady  Inger. 

Peace,  I  say!   look  how  the  people  swarm. 

[A  funeral  hijmn  is  heard  from  the  room  within. 

There  comes  the  coronation  train.  What  a  throng! 
All  men  bow  themselves  before  the  King's  mother.  Ay, 
ay;  has  she  not  fought  for  her  son — even  till  her  hands 
grew  red  withal  '^ — Where  arc  my  daughters  ?  I  see 
them  not. 

Nils  Lykke. 

God's  blood ! — what  has  befallen  here  ? 


ACT  V]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  185 

Lady  Inger. 

My  daughters — my  fair  daughters!  I  have  none  any 
more.  I  had  one  left,  and  her  I  lost  even  as  she  was 
mounting  her  bridal  bed.  [Whispers.]  In  it  lay  Lucia 
dead.     There  was  no  room  for  two. 


Nils  Lykke, 

Ah — it  has  come  to  this!  The  Lord's  vengeance  is 
upon  me. 

Lady  Inger. 

Can  you  see  him  ?  Look,  look !  'Tis  the  King.  It  is 
Inger  Gyldenlove's  son!  I  know  him  by  the  crown  and 
by  Sten  Sture's  ring  that  he  wears  round  his  neck.  Hark, 
what  a  joyful  sound!  He  is  coming!  Soon  will  he  be  in 
my  arms!     Ha-ha! — who  conquers,  God  or  I? 

[The  Men- AT- Arms  co7ne  out  with  tJie  coffin. 

Lady  Inger, 

[Clutclies  at  her  head  and  shrieks.]  The  corpse! 
[Whispers.]     Pah!     'Tis  a  hideous  dream. 

[Sinks  back  into  the  high-seat. 

Jens  Bielke. 

[Who  has  come  in  from  the  right,  stops  and  cries  in 
astojiishment.]     Dead!     Then  after  all 

One  of  the  Men-at-Arms. 
'Twas  he  himself  that 

Jens  Bielke. 
[With  a  look  at  Nils  Lykke.]     He  himself ? 


186  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

Nils  Lykke. 
Hush! 

Lady  Inger. 

[Faintly,   coming  to   herself.]     Ay,   right; — now  I  re- 
member all. 

Jens  Bielke. 

[To  tlie  Men- AT- Arms.]     Set  down  the  corpse.     It  is 
not  Count  Sture. 

One  of  the  Men-at-Arms. 

Your  pardon.  Captain; — this  ring  that  he  wore  around 
his  neck 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Seizes  his  arm^     Be  still! 

Lady  Inger. 

[Starts  uj)^     The  ring.'     The  ring! 

[Rushes  up  and  snatches  the  ring  from  him. 

Sten  Sture's  ring!     [With  a  shriek.]     Oh  God,  oh  God 

— my  son!  [Throivs  herself  down  on  the  coffin. 

The  Men-at-Arms. 
Her  son? 

Jens  Bielke. 

[At  the  same  time.]     Inger  Gyldenlove's  son? 

Nils  Lykke. 
So  is  it. 

Jens  Bielke. 

But  why  did  you  not  tell  me ? 


ACTV]         LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT  187 

BlORN. 

[Trying  to  raise  her  up.]     Help!    help!     My   lady— 
what  ails  you  ?  what  lack  you  ?  J         J 

Lady  Inger. 

[In  a  faint  voice,  half  raising  herself.]     What  lack  I  ? 

Une  coffin  more.     A  grave  beside  my  child 

[Shilcs  again,  senseless,  on  the  coffin.  Nils  Lykke 
goes  hastily  out  to  the  right.  'General  constertia- 
tion  among  the  rest. 


THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG 


THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG 
INTRODUCTION  * 

Exactly  a  year  after  the  production  of  Lady  Inger  of 
Ostrat — that  is  to  say  on  the  "Foundation  Day"  of  the 
Bergen  Theatre,  January  2,  1856 — The  Feast  at  Solhoug 
was  produced.  The  poet  himself  has  written  its  history 
in  full  in  the  Preface  to  the  second  edition  (see  p.  196), 
The  only  comment  that  need  be  made  upon  his  rejoinder 
to  his  critics  has  been  made,  with  perfect  fairness  as  it 
seems  to  me,  by  George  Brandes  in  the  following  pas- 
sage:^ "No  one  who  is  unacquainted  with  the  Scandina- 
vian languages  can  fully  understand  the  charm  that  the 
style  and  melody  of  the  old  ballads  exercise  upon  the 
Scandinavian  mind.  The  beautiful  ballads  and  songs  of 
Des  Knahen  Wunderhorn  have  perhaps  had  a. similar 
power  over  German  minds;  but,  as  far  as  I  am  aware,  no 
German  poet  has  ever  succeeded  in  inventing  a  metre 
suitable  for  dramatic  purposes,  which  yet  retained  the 
mediaeval  ballad's  sonorous  swing  and  rich  aroma.  The 
explanation  of  the  powerful  impression  produced  in  its 
day  by  Henrik  Hertz's  Svend  Dyring's  House  is  to  be 
found  in  the  fact  that  in  it,  for  the  first  time,  the  problem 
was  solved  of  how  to  fashion  a  metre  akin  to  that  of  the 

'  Ibsen  and  Bjornson.    London,  Heinemann,  1899,  p.  88. 

*  Copyright,  1908,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 

IDl 


192  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG 

heroic  ballads,  a  metre  possessing  as  great  mobility  as  the 
verse  of  the  Niehelungenlied,  along  with  a  dramatic  value 
not  inferior  to  that  of  the  iambic  pentameter.  Henrik 
Ibsen,  it  is  true,  has  justly  pointed  out  that,  as  regards 
the  mutual  relations  of  the  principal  characters,  Svend 
Dyring's  House  owes  more  to  Kleist's  Kdtlwhen  von  Heil- 
hronn  than  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  owes  to  Svend  Dyring^s 
House.  But  the  fact  remains  that  the  versified  parts 
of  the  dialogue  of  both  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  and  Olaf 
Liliekrans  are  written  in  that  imitation  of  the  tone  and 
style  of  the  heroic  ballad,  of  which  Hertz  was  the  hap- 
pily-inspired originator.  There  seems  to  me  to  be  no 
depreciation  whatever  of  Ibsen  in  the  assertion  of  Hertz's 
right  to  rank  as  his  model.  Even  the  greatest  must  have 
learnt  from  some  one." 

The  question  is,  to  put  it  in  a  nutshell:  Supposing 
Hertz  had  never  adapted  the  ballad  measures  to  dramatic 
purposes,  would  Ibsen  have  written  The  Feast  at  Solhoug, 
at  any  rate  in  its  present  form  ?  I  think  we  must  answer: 
Almost  certainly,  no. 

But  while  the  influence  of  Danish  lyrical  romanticism 
is  apparent  in  the  style  of  the  play,  the  structure,  as  it 
seems  to  me,  shows  no  less  clearly  that  influence  of  the 
French  plot-manipulators  which  we  found  so  unmistak- 
ably at  work  in  Lady  Inger.  Despite  its  lyrical  dialogue. 
The  Feast  at  Solhoug  has  that  crispness  of  dramatic 
action  which  marks  the  French  plays  of  the  period.  It 
may  indeed  be  called  Scribe's  Bataille  de  Dames  writ 
tragic.  Here,  as  in  the  Bataille  de  Dames  (one  of  the 
earliest  plays  produced  under  Ibsen's  supervision),  we 
have  the  rivalry  of  an  older  and  a  younger  woman  for  the 


INTRODUCTION  193 

love  of  a  man  who  is  proscribed  on  an  unjust  accusation, 
and  pursued  by  the  emissaries  of  the  royal  power.  One 
might  even,  though  this  would  be  forcing  the  point,  find 
an  analogy  in  the  fact  that  the  elder  woman  (in  both 
plays  a  strong  and  determined  character)  has  in  Scribe's 
comedy  a  cowardly  suitor,  while  in  Ibsen's  tragedy,  or 
melodrama,  she  has  a  cowardly  husband.  In  every 
other  respect  the  plays  are  as  dissimilar  as  possible;  yet 
it  seems  to  me  far  from  unlikely  that  an  unconscious 
reminiscence  of  the  Bataille  de  Dames  may  have  con- 
tributed to  the  shaping  of  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  in  Ibsen's 
mind.  But  more  significant  than  any  resemblance  of 
theme  is  the  similarity  of  Ibsen's  whole  method  to  that 
of  the  French  school — the  way,  for  instance,  in  which 
misunderstandings  are  kept  up  through  a  careful  avoid- 
ance of  the  use  of  proper  names,  and  the  way  in  which  a 
cup  of  poison,  prepared  for  one  person,  comes  into  the 
hands  of  another  person,  is,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  drunk  by 
no  one,  but  occasions  the  acutest  agony  to  the  would-be 
poisoner.  All  this  ingenious  dovetailing  of  incidents  and 
working-up  of  misunderstandings  Ibsen  unquestionably 
learned  from  the  French.  The  French  language,  indeed, 
is  the  only  one  which  has  a  word — quiproquo — to  indi- 
cate the  class  of  misunderstanding  which,  from  Lady 
Inger  down  to  TJie  League  of  Youth,  Ibsen  employed 
without  scruple. 

Ibsen's  first  visit  to  the  home  of  his  future  wife  took 
place  five  days  after  the  production  of  The  Feast  at  Sol- 
houg. It  seems  doubtful  whether  this  was  actually  his 
first  meeting  with  her;*  but  at  any  rate  we  can  scarcely 

*  See  note,  p.  12. 


194  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG 

suppose  that  he  knew  her  during  the  previous  summer, 
when  he  was  writing  his  play.  It  is  a  curious  coincidence, 
then,  that  he  should  have  found  in  Susanna  Thoresen 
and  her  sister  Marie  very  much  the  same  contrast  of 
characters  which  had  occupied  him  in  his  first  dramatic 
effort,  Catilina,  and  which  had  formed  the  main  subject 
of  the  play  he  had  just  produced.  It  is  less  wonderful 
that  the  same  contrast  should  so  often  recur  in  his  later 
works,  even  down  to  John  Gabriel  Borkman.  Ibsen  was 
greatly  attached  to  his  gentle  and  retiring  sister-in-law, 
v/ho  died  unmarried  in  1874. 

The  Feast  at  Solhoug  has  been  translated  by  Miss 
Morison  and  myself,  only  because  no  one  else  could  be 
found  to  undertake  the  task.  We  have  done  our  best; 
but  neither  of  us  lays  claim  to  any  great  metrical  skill, 
and  the  light  movement  of  Ibsen's  verse  is  often,  if  not 
always,  rendered  in  a  sadly  halting  fashion.  It  is,  how- 
ever, impossible  to  exaggerate  the  irregularity  of  the 
verse  in  the  original,  or  its  defiance  of  strict  metrical  law. 
The  normal  line  is  one  of  four  accents;  but  when  this  is 
said,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  arrive  at  any  further  gen- 
eralisation. There  is  a  certain  lilting  melody  in  many 
passages,  and  the  whole  play  has  not  unfairly  been  said  to 
possess  the  charm  of  a  northern  summer  night,  in  which 
the  glimmer  of  twilight  gives  place  only  to  the  gleam  of 
morning.  But  in  the  main  (though  much  better  than  its 
successor,  Olaf  Liliekrans)  it  is  the  weakest  thing  that 
Ibsen  admitted  into  the  canon  of  his  works.  He  wrote 
of  it  in  1870  as  "a  study  which  I  now  disown";  and  had 
he  continued  in  that  frame  of  mind,  the  world  would 


INTRODUCTION  195 

scarcely  have  quarrelled  with  his  judgment.  At  worst, 
then,  my  collaborator  and  I  cannot  be  accused  of  marring 
a  masterpiece;  but  for  which  assurance  we  should  prob- 
ably have  shrunk  from  the  attempt. 

W.  A. 


THE   AUTHOR'S   PREFACE   TO   THE   SECOND 

EDITION 

I  WROTE  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  in  Bergen  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1855 — that  is  to  say,  about  twenty-eight  years 
ago. 

The  play  was  acted  for  the  first  time  on  January  2, 
1856,  also  at  Bergen,  as  a  gala  performance  on  the  anni- 
versary of  the  foundation  of  the  Norwegian  Stage. 

As  I  was  then  stage-manager  of  the  Bergen  Theatre, 
it  was  I  myself  who  conducted  the  rehearsals  of  my  play. 
It  received  an  excellent,  a  remarkably  sympathetic  in- 
terpretation. Acted  with  pleasure  and  enthusiasm,  it 
was  received  in  the  same  spirit.  The  "Bergen  emo- 
tionalism," which  is  said  to  have  decided  the  result  of 
the  latest  elections  in  those  parts,  ran  high  that  evening 
in  the  crowded  theatre.  The  performance  ended  with 
repeated  calls  for  the  author  and  for  the  actors.  Later 
in  the  evening  I  was  serenaded  by  the  orchestra,  ac- 
companied by  a  great  part  of  the  audience.  I  almost 
think  that  I  went  so  far  as  to  make  some  kind  of  speech 
from  my  window;  certain  I  am  that  I  felt  extremely 
happy. 

A  couple  of  months  later.  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  was 
played  in  Christiania.  There  also  it  was  received  by  the 
public  with  much  approbation,  and  the  day  after  the  first 
performance  Bjornson  wrote  a  friendly,  youthfully  ardent 

196 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION    197 

article  on  it  in  the  Morgenhlad.  It  was  not  a  notice  or 
criticism  proper,  but  rather  a  free,  fanciful  improvisa- 
tion on  the  play  and  the  performance. 

On  this,  however,  followed  the  real  criticism,  written 
by  the  real  critics. 

How  did  a  man  in  the  Christiania  of  those  days— by 
which  I  mean  the  years  between  1850  and  1860,  or  there- 
abouts— become  a  real  literary,  and  in  particular  dra- 
matic, critic  ? 

As  a  rule,  the  process  was  as  follows:  After  some  pre- 
paratory exercises  in  the  columns  of  the  Samfundshlad, 
and  after  having  frequently  listened  to  the  discussions 
which  went  on  in  Treschow's  cafe  or  at  "Inffebret's" 
after  the  play,  the  future  critic  betook  himself  to  Johan 
Dahl's  bookshop  and  ordered  from  Copenhagen  a  copy 
of  J.  L.  Heiberg's  Prose  Works,  among  which  was  to  be 
found — so  he  had  heard  it  said — an  essay  entitled  On  the 
Vaudeville.  This  essay  was  in  due  course  read,  rumi- 
nated on,  and  possibly  to  a  certain  extent  understood. 
From  Heiberg's  writings  the  young  man,  moreover, 
learned  of  a  controversy  which  that  author  had  carried 
on  in  his  day  with  Professor  Oehlenschlager  and  with  the 
Soro  poet,  Hauch.  And  he  was  simultaneously  made 
aware  that  J.  L.  Baggesen  (the  author  of  Letters  from  the 
Dead)  had  at  a  still  earlier  period  made  a  similar  attack 
on  the  great  author  who  wrote  both  Axel  arid  Valborg  and 
Hakon  Jarl. 

A  quantity  of  other  information  useful  to  a  critic  was 
to  be  extracted  from  these  writings.  From  them  one 
learned,  for  instance,  that  taste  obliged  a  good  critic  to 
be  scandalised  by  a  hiatus.     Did  the  young  critical  Jero- 


198  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG 

nimuses  of  Christiania  encounter  such  a  monstrosity  in 
any  new  verse,  they  were  as  certain  as  their  prototype  in 
Holberg  to  shout  their  "Hoity-toity!  the  world  will  not 
last  till  Easter!" 

The  origin  of  another  peculiar  characteristic  of  the 
criticism  then  prevalent  in  the  Norwegian  capital  was 
long  a  puzzle  to  me.  Every  time  a  new  author  published 
a  book  or  had  a  little  play  acted,  our  critics  w^ere  in  the 
habit  of  flying  into  an  ungovernable  passion  and  behav- 
ing as  if  the  publication  of  the  book  or  the  performance 
of  the  play  were  a  mortal  insult  to  themselves  and  the 
newspapers  in  which  they  wrote.  As  already  remarked, 
I  puzzled  long  over  this  peculiarity.  At  last  I  got  to 
the  bottom  of  the  matter.  Whilst  reading  the  Danish 
Monthly  Journal  of  Literature  I  was  struck  by  the  fact 
that  old  State-Councillor  Molbech  was  invariably  seized 
with  a  fit  of  rage  when  a  young  author  published  a  book 
or  had  a  play  acted  in  Copenhagen. 

Thus,  or  in  a  manner  closely  resembling  this,  had  the 
tribunal  qualified  itself,  which  now,  in  the  daily  press, 
summoned  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  to  the  bar  of  criticism  in 
Christiania.  It  was  principally  composed  of  young  men 
who,  as  regards  criticism,  lived  upon  loans  from  various 
quarters.  Their  critical  thoughts  had  long  ago  been 
thought  and  expressed  by  others;  their  opinions  had 
lono-  ere  now  been  formulated  elsewhere.  Their  aesthetic 
principles  were  borrowed ;  their  critical  method  was  bor- 
rowed; the  polemical  tactics  they  employed  were  bor- 
rowed in  every  particular,  great  and  small.  Their  very 
frame  of  mind  was  borrowed.  Borrowing,  borrowing, 
here,  there,  and  everywhere!     The  single  original  thing 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION     199 

about  them  was  that  they  invariably  made  a  wrong  and 
unseasonable  application  of  their  borrowings. 

It  can  surprise  no  one  that  this  body,  the  members 
of  which,  as  critics,  supported  themselves  by  borrowing, 
should  have  presupposed  similar  action  on  my  part,  as 
author.  Two,  possibly  more  than  two,  of  the  news- 
papers promptly  discovered  that  I  had  borrowed  this, 
that,  and  the  other  thing  from  Henrik  Hertz's  play,  Svend 
Dyring's  House. 

This  is  a  baseless  and  indefensible  critical  assertion. 
It  is  evidently  to  be  ascribed  to  the  fact  that  the  metre 
of  the  ancient  ballads  is  employed  in  both  plays.  But 
my  tone  is  quite  different  from  Hertz's;  the  language 
of  my  play  has  a  different  ring;  a  light  summer  breeze 
plays  over  the  rhythm  of  my  verse;  over  that  of  Hertz's 
brood  the  storms  of  autumn. 

Nor,  as  regards  the  characters,  the  action,  and  the 
contents  of  the  plays  generally,  is  there  any  other  or  any 
greater  resemblance  between  them  than  that  which  is  a 
natural  consequence  of  the  derivation  of  the  subjects  of 
both  from  the  narrow  circle  of  ideas  in  which  the  ancient 
ballads  move. 

It  might  be  maintained  with  quite  as  much,  or  even 
more,  reason  that  Hertz  in  his  Svend  Dyring's  House  had 
borrowed,  and  that  to  no  inconsiderable  extent,  from 
Heinrich  von  Kleist's  Kdthclun  von  Heilbronn,  a  play 
written  at  the  beginning  of  this  century.  Kathchen's  re- 
lation to  Count  Wetterstrahl  is  in  all  essentials  the  same 
as  Ragnhild's  to  the  knight,  Stig  Hvide.  Like  Ragn- 
hild,  Kathchen  is  compelled  by  a  mysterious,  inexplica- 
ble power  to  follow  the  man  she  loves  wherever  he  goes. 


200  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG 

to  steal  secretly  after  him,  to  lay  herself  down  to  sleep 
near  him,  to  come  back  to  him,  as  by  some  innate  com- 
pulsion, however  often  she  may  be  driven  away.  And 
other  instances  of  supernatural  interference  are  to  be 
met  with  both  in  Kleist's  and  in  Hertz's  play. 

But  does  any  one  doubt  that  it  would  be  possible,  with  a 
little  good-  or  a  little  ill-will,  to  discover  among  still  older 
dramatic  literature  a  play  from  which  it  could  be  main- 
tained that  Kleist  had  borrowed  here  and  there  in  his 
Kdthchen  von  Heilhrunn  ?  I,  for  my  part,  do  not  doubt 
it.  But  such  suggestions  of  indebtedness  are  futile. 
What  makes  a  work  of  art  the  spiritual  property  of  its 
creator  is  the  fact  that  he  has  imprinted  on  it  the  stamp 
of  his  own  personality.  Therefore  I  hold  that,  in  spite 
of  the  above-mentioned  points  of  resemblance,  Svend 
Dyrimfs  House  is  as  incontestably  and  entirely  an  orig- 
inal work  by  Henrik  Hertz  as  KatJichen  von  Heilbronn 
is  an  original  work  by  Heinrich  von  Kleist. 

I  advance  the  same  claim  on  my  own  behalf  as  re- 
gards The  Feast  at  Solhoug,  and  I  trust  that,  for  the 
future,  each  of  the  three  namesakes^  will  be  permitted 
to  keep,  in  its  entirety,  what  rightfully  belongs  to  him. 

In  writing  of  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  in  connection  with 
Svend  Dyring's  House,  George  Brandes  expresses  the 
opinion,  not  that  the  former  play  is  founded  upon  any 
idea  borrowed  from  the  latter,  but  that  it  has  been  writ- 
ten under  an  influence  exercised  by  the  older  author 
upon  the  younger.  Brandes  invariably  criticises  my 
work  in  such  a  friendly  spirit  that  I  have  all  reason  to 
be  obliged  to  him  for  this  suggestion,  as  for  so  much  else. 
*  Heinrich  von  Kleist,  Henrik  Hertz,  Henrik  Ibsen. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION    201 

Nevertheless  I  must  maintain  that  he,  too,  is  in  this 
instance  mistaken.  I  have  never  specially  admired  Hen- 
rik  Hertz  as  a  dramatist.  Hence  it  is  impossible  for  me 
to  believe  that  he  should,  unknown  to  myself,  have  been 
able  to  exercise  any  influence  on  my  dramatic  production. 

As  regards  this  point,  and  the  matter  in  general,  I 
might  confine  myself  to  referring  those  interested  to  the 
writings  of  Dr.  Valfrid  Vasenius,  lecturer  on  ^Esthetics  at 
the  University  of  Helsingfors.  In  the  thesis  which  gained 
him  his  degree  of  Doctor  of  Philosophy,  Henrik  Ibsen's 
Dramatic  Poetry  in  its  First  Stage  (1879),  and  also  in 
Henrik  Ibsen:  The  Portrait  of  a  Skald  (Jos.  Seligman  & 
Co.,  Stockholm,  1882),  Vasenius  states  and  supports  his 
views  on  the  subject  of  the  play  at  present  in  question, 
supplementing  them  in  the  latter  work  by  what  I  told 
him,  very  briefly,  when  we  were  together  at  Munich  three 
years  ago. 

But,  to  prevent  all  misconception,  I  will  now  myself 
give  a  short  account  of  the  origin  of  The  Feast  at  Solhoug. 

I  began  this  Preface  with  the  statement  that  The  Feast 
at  Solhoug  was  written  in  the  summer  of  1855. 

In  1854  I  had  written  Lady  Inger  of  Ostrat.  This  was 
a  task  which  had  obliged  me  to  devote  much  attention  to 
the  literature  and  history  of  Norway  during  the  Middle 
Ages,  especially  the  latter  part  of  that  period.  I  did  my 
utmost  to  familiarise  myself  with  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms, with  the  emotions,  thoughts,  and  language,  of  the 
men  of  those  days. 

The  period,  however,  is  not  one  over  which  the  stu- 
dent is  tempted  to  linger,  nor  does  it  present  much  mate- 
rial suitable  for  dramatic  treatment. 


202  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG 

Consequently  I  soon  deserted  it  for  the  Saga  period. 
But  the  Sagas  of  the  Kings,  and  in  general  the  more 
strictly  historical  traditions  of  that  far-off  age,  did  not 
attract  me  greatly;  at  that  time  I  was  unable  to  put  the 
quarrels  between  kings  and  chieftains,  parties  and  clans, 
to  any  dramatic  purpose.     This  was  to  happen  later. 

In  the  Icelandic  "family"  Sagas,  on  the  other  hand, 
I  found  in  abundance  what  I  required  in  the  shape  of 
human  garb  for  the  moods,  conceptions,  and  thoughts 
which  at  that  time  occupied  me,  or  were,  at  least,  more 
or  less  distinctly  present  in  my  mind.  With  these  Old- 
Norse  contributions  to  the  personal  history  of  our  Saga 
period  I  had  had  no  previous  acquaintance;  I  had  hardly 
so  much  as  heard  them  named.  But  now  N.  M.  Peter- 
sen's excellent  translation — excellent,  at  least,  as  far  as 
the  style  is  concerned — fell  into  my  hands.  In  the  pages 
of  these  family  chronicles,  with  their  variety  of  scenes 
and  of  relations  between  man  and  man,  between  woman 
and  woman,  in  short,  between  human  being  and  human 
being,  there  met  me  a  personal,  eventful,  really  living  life; 
and  as  the  result  of  my  intercourse  with  all  these  distinctly 
individual  men  and  women,  there  presented  themselves 
to  my  mind's  eye  the  first  rough,  indistinct  outlines  of 
The  Vikings  at  lielgeland. 

How  far  the  details  of  that  drama  then  took  shape,  I 
am  no  longer  able  to  say.  But  I  remember  perfectly 
that  the  two  figures  of  which  I  first  caught  sight  were 
the  two  women  who  in  course  of  time  became  Hiordis 
and  Dagny.  There  was  to  be  a  great  banquet  in  the 
play,  with  passion-rousing,  fateful  quarrels  during  its 
course.     Of  other  characters  and  passions,  and  situations 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION    203 

produced  by  these,  I  meant  to  include  whatever  seemed 
to  me  most  t}-pical  of  the  Hfe  which  the  Sagas  reveal. 
In  short,  it  was  my  intention  to  reproduce  dramatically 
exactly  what  the  Saga  of  the  Volsungs  gives  in  epic 
form. 

I  made  no  complete,  connected  plan  at  that  time;  but 
it  was  evident  to  me  that  such  a  drama  was  to  be  my  first 
undertaking. 

Various  obstacles  intervened.  jNIost  of  them  were  of 
a  personal  nature,  and  these  were  probably  the  most 
decisive;  but  it  undoubtedly  had  its  significance  that  I 
happened  just  at  this  time  to  make  a  careful  study  of 
Landstad's  collection  of  Norwegian  ballads,  published 
two  years  previously.  My  mood  of  the  moment  was 
more  in  harmony  with  the  literary  romanticism  of  the 
Middle  Ages  than  with  the  deeds  of  the  Sagas,  with  po- 
etical than  with  prose  composition,  with  the  word-mel- 
ody of  the  ballad  than  with  the  characterisation  of  the 
Saga. 

Thus  it  happened  that  the  fermenting,  formless  design 
for  the  tragedy.  The  Vikings  at  HeJgeland,  transformed 
itself  temporarily  into  the  lyric  drama,  Tlie  Feast  at  Sol- 
houg. 

The  two  female  charac!:ers,  the  foster-sisters  Hiordis 
and  Dagny,  of  the  projected  tragedy,  became  the  sisters 
Margit  and  Signe  of  the  completed  IjtIc  drama.  The 
derivation  of  the  latter  pair  from  the  two  women  of  the 
Saga  at  once  becomes  apparent  when  attention  is  drawn 
to  it.  The  relationship  is  unmistakable.  The  tragic 
hero,  so  far  only  vaguely  outlined,  Sigurd,  the  far-travelled 
Viking,  the  welcome  guest  at  the  courts  of  kings,  became 


204  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG 

the  knight  and  minstrel,  Gudmund  Alfson,  who  has 
Hkewise  been  long  absent  in  foreign  lands,  and  has  lived 
in  the  king's  household.  His  attitude  towards  the  two 
sisters  was  changed,  to  bring  it  into  accordance  with  the 
change  in  time  and  circumstances;  but  the  position  of 
both  sisters  to  him  remained  practically  the  same  as  that 
in  the  projected  and  afterwards  completed  tragedy.  The 
fateful  banquet,  the  presentation  of  which  had  seemed 
to  me  of  the  first  importance  in  my  original  plan,  became 
in  the  drama  the  scene  upon  which  its  personages  made 
their  appearance;  it  became  the  background  against 
which  the  action  stood  out,  and  communicated  to  the 
picture  as  a  whole  the  general  tone  at  which  I  aimed. 
The  ending  of  the  play  was,  undoubtedly,  softened  and 
subdued  into  harmony  with  its  character  as  drama,  not 
tragedy;  but  orthodox  sestheticians  may  still,  perhaps, 
find  it  disputable  whether,  in  this  ending,  a  touch  of 
pure  tragedy  has  not  been  left  behind,  to  testify  to  the 
oriffin  of  the  drama. 

Upon  this  subject,  however,  I  shall  not  enter  further 
at  present.  My  object  has  simply  been  to  maintain  and 
prove  that  the  play  under  consideration,  like  all  my  other 
dramatic  works,  is  an  inevitable  outcome  of  the  tenor  of 
my  life  at  a  certain  period.  It  had  its  origin  within,  and 
was  not  the  result  of  any  outward  impression  or  influence 

This,  and  no  other,  is  the  true  account  of  the  genesis 

of  The  Feast  at  Solhoug. 

Henrik  Ibsen. 

Rome,  April,  1883. 


THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG 

(1856) 


CHARACTERS 

Bengt  Gauteson,  Master  of  Solhoug 

Margit,  his  wife. 

SiGNE,  her  sister. 

GuDMUND  Alfson,  their  kinsman. 

Knut  Gesling,  the  King's  sheriff. 

Erik  of  Hegge,  his  friend. 

A  House-carl. 

Another  House-carl. 

The  King's  Envoy. 

An  Old  Man. 

A  Maiden. 

Guests,  both  Men  and  liADiEs, 

Men  of  Knut  Gesling's  Train. 

Serving-Men  and  Maidens  at  Solhoug. 


The  action  passes  at  Solhoug  in  the  Fourteenth  Century. 

[Pronunciation  of  Names:  Gndmnwd  =  Goodmoond.  The 
g  in  "Margit"  and  in  "Gesling"  is  hard,  as  in  "go,"  or,  in 
"GesHng,"  it  may  be  pronounced  as  y — "Yeshng."  The  first 
0  in  "Solhoug"  ought  to  have  the  sound  of  a  very  long  "oo."] 


THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG 

PLAY  IN  THREE  ACTS 


ACT   FIRST 


A  stately  room,  icith  doors  in  the  hack  and  to  both  sides. 
In  front,  on  the  right,  a  bay  window  with  small  round 
panes,  set  in  lead,  arid  near  the  window  a  table,  on 
which  is  a  quantity  of  feminine  ornaments.  Along 
the  left  wall,  a  longer  table  witJc  silver  goblets,  beakers 
and  drinking-horns.  The  door  in  the  back  leads  out 
to  a  passage-way,^  through  which  can  be  seen  a  spa- 
cious fiord-landscape. 

Bengt  Gauteson,  Margit,  Knut  Gesling  and  Erik 
OF  Hegge  are  seated  around  the  table  on  the  left.  In 
the  background  are  Knut's  followers,  some  seated, 
some  standing;  one  or  two  flagons  of  ale  are  handed 
round  among  them.     Far  off  are  heard  church  bells. 


ringing  to  Mass. 


Erik. 


[Rising  at  the  table.]  In  one  word,  now,  what  answer 
have  you  to  make  to  my  wooing  on  Knut  Gesling's 
behalf  ? 

'  This  no  doubt  means  a  sort  of  arcaded  veranda  running  along 
the  outer  wall  of  the  house. 

207 


208  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Bengt, 

[Glancing  uneasily  towards  his  wife.]  Well,  I — to  me 
it  seems —  [As  she  remains  silent.]  H'm,  Margit,  let  us 
first  hear  your  thought  in  the  matter. 

Margit. 

[Rising.]  Sir  Knut  Gesling,  I  have  long  known  all 
that  Erik  of  Hegge  has  told  of  you.  I  know  full  well 
that  you  come  of  a  lordly  house;  you  are  rich  in  gold 
and  gear,  and  you  stand  in  high  favour  with  our  royal 
master. 

Bengt. 

[To  Knut.]     In  high  favour — so  say  I  too. 

Margit. 

And  doubtless  my  sister  could  choose  her  no  doughtier 
mate — 

Bengt. 

None  doughtier;  that  is  what  I  say  too. 

Margit. 
— if  so  be  that  you  can  win  her  to  think  kindly  of  you. 

Bengt. 
[Anxiously,  and  half  aside.]  Nay — nay,  my  dear  wife — 

Knut. 

[Springing  up.]  Stands  it  so,  Dame  Margit!  You 
think  that  your  sister — 


ACT  I]         THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  209 

Bengt. 

[Seeking  to  calm  him.]  Nay,  nay,  Knut  Gesling! 
Have  patience,  now.     You  must  understand  us  aright. 

Margit. 

There  is  naught  in  my  words  to  wound  you.  My  sister 
knows  you  only  by  the  songs  that  are  made  about  you — 
and  these  songs  sound  but  ill  in  gentle  ears. 

No  peaceful  home  is  your  father's  house. 

With  your  lawless,  reckless  crew, 
Day  out,  day  in,  must  you  hold  carouse — 

God  help  her  who  mates  with  you. 
God  help  the  maiden  you  lure  or  buy 

With  gold  and  with  forests  green — 
Soon  will  her  sore  heart  long  to  lie 

Still  in  the  grave,  I  ween. 

Erik. 

Aye,  aye — true  enough — Knut  Gesling  lives  not  over- 
peaceably.  But  there  will  soon  come  a  change  in  that, 
when  he  gets  him  a  wife  in  his  hall. 

Knut, 

And  this  I  would  have  you  mark.  Dame  Margit:  it 
may  be  a  week  since,  I  was  at  a  feast  at  Hegge,  at  Erik's 
bidding,  whom  here  you  see.  The  ale  was  strong;  and 
as  the  evening  wore  on  I  vowed  a  vow  that  Signe,  your 
fair  sister,  should  be  my  wife,  and  that  before  the  year 
was  out.  Never  shall  it  be  said  of  Knut  Gesling  that  he 
brake  any  vow.  You  can  see,  then,  that  you  must  e'en 
choose  me  for  your  sister's  husband — be  it  with  your 
will  or  against  it. 


210  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Margit. 

Ere  that  may  be,  I  must  tell  you  plain. 

You  must  rid  yourself  of  your  ravening  train. 

You  must  scour  no  longer  with  yell  and  shout 

O'er  the  country-side  in  a  galloping  rout; 

You  must  still  the  shudder  that  spreads  around 

When  Knut  Gesling  is  to  a  bride-ale  bound. 

Courteous  must  your  mien  be  when  a-feasting  you  ride; 

Let  your  battle-axe  hang  at  home  at  the  chimney-side — 

It  ever  sits  loose  in  your  hand,  well  you  know. 

When  the  mead  has  gone  round  and  your  brain  is  aglow. 

From  no  man  his  rightful  gear  shall  you  wrest, 

You  shall  harm  no  harmless  maiden; 

You  shall  send  to  no  man  the  shameless  hest 

That  when  his  path  crosses  yours,  he  were  best 

Come  with  his  grave-clothes  laden. 

And  if  you  will  so  bear  you  till  the  year  be  past, 

You  may  win  my  sister  for  your  bride  at  last. 

Knut. 

[With  suppressed  rage.]  You  know  how  to  order  your 
words  cunningly.  Dame  Margit.  Truly,  you  should  have 
been  a  priest,  and  not  your  husband's  wife. 

Bengt. 
Oh,  for  that  matter,  I  too  could — 

Knut. 

[Paying  no  heed  to  him.]  But  I  would  have  you  take 
note  that  had  a  sword-bearing  man  spoken  to  me  in  such 
wise — 


ACT  I]         THE   FEAST  AT   SOLHOUG  211 

Bengt. 
Nay,  but  listen,  Knut  Gesling — you  must  understand 


us! 


Knut. 


[As  before.]  Well,  briefly,  he  should  have  learnt  that 
the  axe  sits  loose  in  my  hand,  as  you  said  but  now. 

Bengt. 

[Softly.]  There  we  have  it!  Margit,  Margit,  this  will 
never  end  well. 

Margit. 

[To  Knut.]  You  asked  for  a  forthright  answer,  and 
that  I  have  given  you. 

Knut. 

Well,  well;  I  will  not  reckon  too  closely  with  you,  Dame 
Margit.  You  have  more  wit  than  all  the  rest  of  us  to- 
gether. Here  is  my  hand; — it  may  be  there  was  some- 
what of  reason  in  the  keen-edged  words  you  spoke  to 
me. 

Margit. 

This  I  like  well;  now  are  you  already  on  the  right 
way  to  amendment.  Yet  one  word  more — to-day  we 
hold  a  feast  at  Solhoug. 

Knut. 
A  feast  ? 

Bengt. 

Yes,  Knut  Gesling:  you  must  know  that  it  is  our 
wedding-day;  this  day  three  years  ago  made  me  Dame 
Margit's  husband. 


212  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Margit. 

[Impatiently,  interrupting.]  As  I  said,  we  hold  a  feast 
to-day.  When  Mass  is  over,  and  your  other  business 
done,  I  would  have  you  ride  hither  again,  and  join  in  the 
banquet.     Then  you  can  learn  to  know  my  sister. 

Knut. 

So  be  it,  Dame  Margit;  I  thank  you.  Yet  'twas  not  to 
go  to  Mass  that  I  rode  hither  this  morning.  Your  kins- 
man, Gudmund  Alfson,  was  the  cause  of  my  coming. 

Margit. 

[Starts.]     He !     My  kinsman  ?     Where  would  you  seek 

him  ? 

Knut. 

His  homestead  lies  behind  the  headland,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  fiord. 

Margit. 

But  he  himself  is  far  away. 

Erik. 
Be  not  so  sure;  he  may  be  nearer  than  you  think. 

Knut. 
[Whispers.]     Hold  your  peace! 

Margit. 
Nearer  ?     What  mean  you  ? 


ACT  I]  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  213 

Knut. 

Have  you  not  heard,  then,  that  Gudmund  Alfson  has 
come  back  to  Norway  ?  He  came  with  the  Chancellor 
Audun  of  Hegranes,  who  was  sent  to  France  to  bring 
home  our  new  Queen. 

Margit. 

True  enough;  but  in  these  very  days  the  King  holds 
his  wedding-feast  in  full  state  at  Bergen,  and  there  is 
Gudmund  Alfson  a  guest. 

Bengt. 

And  there  could  we  too  have  been  guests  had  my  wife 
so  willed  it. 

Erik. 

[Aside  to  Knut.]  Then  Dame  Margit  knows  not 
that—  ? 

Knut. 

[Aside.]  So  it  would  seem;  but  keep  your  counsel. 
[Aloud.]  Well,  well.  Dame  Margit,  I  must  go  my  way 
none  the  less,  and  see  what  may  betide.  At  nightfall  I 
will  be  here  again. 

Margit. 

And  then  you  must  show  whether  you  have  power  to 
bridle  your  unruly  spirit. 

Bengt. 
Aye,  mark  you  that. 

Margit. 

You  must  lay  no  hand  on  your  axe — hear  you,  Knut 
Gesling  ? 


214  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Bengt. 

Neither  on  your  axe,  nor  on  your  knife,  nor  on  any 
other  weapon  whatsoever. 

Margit. 
For  then  can  you  never  hope  to  be  one  of  our  kindred! 

Bengt. 
Nay,  that  is  our  firm  resolve. 

Knut. 
[To  Margit.]     Have  no  fear. 

Bengt. 
And  what  we  have  firmly  resolved  stands  fast. 

Knut. 

That  I  like  well.  Sir  Bengt  Gauteson.  I,  too,  say  the 
same;  and  I  have  pledged  myself  at  the  feast-board  to 
wed  your  kinswoman.  You  may  be  sure  that  my  pledge, 
too,  will  stand  fast. — God's  peace  till  to-night! 

[He  and  Erik,  with  their  men,  go  out  at  the  back. 

[Bengt  accompanies  them  to  the  door.     The  sound  of 
the  bells  has  in  the  meantime  ceased. 

Bengt. 

[Returning.]  Methought  he  seemed  to  threaten  us  as 
he  departed. 

Margit. 

[Absently.]     Aye,  so  it  seemed. 


ACT  I]         THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  215 

Bengt. 

Knut  Gesling  is  an  ill  man  to  fall  out  with.  And, 
when  I  bethink  me,  we  gave  him  overmany  hard  words. 
But  come,  let  us  not  brood  over  that.  To-day  we  must 
be  merry,  Margit! — as  I  trow  we  have  both  good  reason 
to  be. 

Margit. 

[With  a  weary  smile.]     Aye,  surely,  surely. 

Bengt. 

'Tis  true  I  was  no  mere  stripling  when  I  courted  you. 
But  well  I  wot  I  was  the  richest  man  for  many  and  many 
a  mile.  You  were  a  fair  maiden,  and  nobly  born;  but 
your  dowry  would  have  tempted  no  wooer. 

Margit. 
[To  herself.]     Yet  was  I  then  so  rich. 

Bengt. 
What  said  you,  my  wife  r 

Margit. 

Oh,  nothing,  nothing.  [Crosses  to  the  right.]  I  will 
deck  me  with  pearls  and  rings.  Is  not  to-night  a  time 
of  rejoicing  for  me? 

Bengt. 

I  am  fain  to  hear  you  say  it.  Let  me  see  that  you 
deck  you  in  your  best  attire,  that  our  guests  may  say: 
Happy  she  who  mated  with  Bengt  Gauteson. — But  now 
must  I  to  the  larder;  there  are  many  things  to-day  that 
must  not  be  overlooked.  [He  goes  out  to  the  left. 


216  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Margit, 
Siiiks  down  on  a  chair  hy  the  table  on  the  right. 

'Twas  well  he  departed.     While  here  he  remains 
Meseems  the  blood  freezes  within  my  veins; 
Meseems  that  a  crushing  might  and  cold 
My  heart  in  its  clutches  doth  still  enfold. 

[With  tears  slie  cannot  repress. 

He   is  my  husband!     lam    his    wife! 
How  long,  how  long  lasts  a  woman's  life? 
Sixty  years,  mayhap — God  pity  me 
Who  am  not  yet  full  twenty-three! 

[More  calmly,  after  a  short  silence. 

Hard,  so  long  in  a  gilded  cage  to  pine; 
Hard  a  hopeless  prisoner's  lot — and  mine. 

[Absently  fingering  the  ornaments  on  the  table,  and 
beginning  to  'put  them  on. 
With  rings,  and  with  jewels,  and  all  of  my  best 
By  his  order  myself  I  am  decking — 
But  oh,  if  to-day  were  my  burial-feast, 
'Twerc  little  that  I'd  be  recking.  [Breaking  off. 

But  if  thus  I  brood  I  must  needs  despair; 
I  know  a  song  that  can  lighten  care.  [She  sings. 

The  Hill-King  to  the  sea  did  ride; 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  dreary — 
To  woo  a  maiden  to  be  his  bride. 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

The  Hill-King  rode  to  Sir  Hakon's  hold; 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  dreary — 
Little  Kirslen  sat  combing  her  locks  of  gold. 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 


ACT  I]         THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  217 

The  Hill-King  wedded  the  maiden  fair; 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  dreary — 
A  silvern  girdle  she  ever  must  vi^ear. 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

The  Hill-King  wedded  the  lily-wand, 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  dreary — 
With  fifteen  gold  rings  on  either  hand. 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

Three  summers  passed,  and  there  passed  full  five; 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  dreary — 
In  the  hill  little  Kirsten  was  buried  alive. 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

Five  summers  passed,  and  there  passed  full  nine; 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  dreary — 
Little  Kirsten  ne'er  saw  the  glad  sunshine. 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

In  the  dale  there  are  flowers  and  the  birds'  blithe  song; 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  dreary — 
In  the  hill  there  is  gold  and  the  night  is  long 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

[She  rises  and  crosses  the  room. 

How  oft  in  the  gloaming  would  Gudmund  sing 

This  song  in  my  father's  hall. 

There  was  somewhat  in  it— some  strange,  sad  thing 

That  took  my  heart  in  thrall; 

Though  I  scarce  understood,  I  could  ne'er  forget — 

And  the  words  and  the  thoughts  they  haunt  me  yet. 

[Stops  horror-struck. 


218  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Rinss  of  red  ijold!     And  a  belt  beside — ! 
'Twas  with  gold  the  Hill-King  wedded  his  bride! 

[In  despair;   sinks  down  on  a  bench  beside  the  table 
on  the  left. 

Woe!     Woe!     I  myself  am  the  Hill-King's  wife! 
And  there  cometh  none  to  free  me  from  the  prison  of  my 
life. 
[SiGNE,  radiant  with  gladness,  comes  running  171  from 
the  back. 

SlGNJ^. 

[Calling.]     Margit,  Margit, — he  is  coming! 

Margit. 
[Starting  up.]     Coming  ?     Who  is  coming  ? 

SiGNE. 

Gudmund,  our  kinsman! 

Margit. 
Gudmund  Alfson!     Here!     How  can  you  think — ? 

SiGNE. 

Oh,  I  am  sure  of  it. 

Margit. 

[Crosses  to  the  rigid.]     Gudmund  Alfson  is  at  the  wed- 
ding-feast in  the  King's  hall;  you  know  that  as  well  as  I. 

Signe. 
Maybe;   but  none  the  less  I  am  sure  it  was  he. 

Margit. 
Have  you  seen  him  ? 


ACT  I]         THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  219 

SiGXE. 

Oh,  no,  no;     but  I  must  tell  you — 

Margit. 
Yes,  haste  you — tell  on! 

SiGNE. 

'Twas  early  morn,  and  the  church  bells  rang. 

To  Mass  I  was  fain  to  ride; 

The  birds  in  the  willows  twittered  and  sang. 

In  the  birch-groves  far  and  wide. 

All  earth  was  glad  in  the  clear,  sweet  day; 

And  from  church  it  had  well-nigh  staved  me; 

For  still,  as  I  rode  down  the  shady  way. 

Each  rosebud  beguiled  and  delayed  me. 

Silently  into  the  church  I  stole; 

The  priest  at  the  altar  was  bending; 

He  chanted  and  read,  and  with  awe  in  their  soul, 

The  folk  to  God's  word  were  attending. 

Then  a  voice  rang  out  o'er  the  fiord  so  blue; 

And  the  carven  angels,  the  whole  church  through. 

Turned  round,  methought,  to  listen  thereto. 

Margit. 
O  Signe,  say  on!     Tell  me  all,  tell  me  all! 

SiGNE. 

'Twas  as  though  a  strange,  irresistible  call 
Summoned  me  forth  from  the  worshipping  flock, 
Over  hill  and  dale,  over  mead  and  rock. 
'Mid  the  silver  birches  I  listening  trod, 


220  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Moving  as  though  in  a  dream; 

Behind  me  stood  empty  the  house  of  God; 

Priest  and  people  were  lured  by  the  magic,  'twould 

seem, 
Of  the  tones  that  still  through  the  air  did  stream. 
No  sound  they  made;  they  were  quiet  as  death; 
To  hearken  the  song-birds  held  their  breath, 
The  lark  dropped  earthward,  the  cuckoo  was  still, 
As  the  voice  re-echoed  from  hill  to  hill. 

Margit, 
Go  on. 

SiGNE. 

They  crossed  themselves,  women  and  men; 

[Pressing  Jier  hands  to  her  breast. 
But  strange  thoughts  arose  within  me  then; 
For  the  heavenly  song  familiar  grew: 
Gudmund  oft  sang  it  to  me  and  you — 
Ofttimes  has  Gudmund  carolled  it, 
And  all  he  e'er  sang  in  my  heart  is  writ. 

Margit. 
And  you  think  that  it  may  be — ? 

SiGNic. 

I  know  it  is  he! 
I  know  it!     I  know  it!     You  soon  shall  see! 

[Laughing. 
From  far-off  lands,  at  the  last,  in  the  end, 
Each  song-bird  homewards  his  flight  doth  bend! 
I  am  so  happy — though  why  I  scarce  know — ' 
Margit,  what  say  you  ?     I'll  quickly  go 


ACT  I]         THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  221 

And  take  down  his  harp,  that  has  hung  so  long 

In  there  on  the  wall  that  'tis  rusted  quite; 

Its  golden  strings  I  wnll  polish  bright, 

And  tune  them  to  ring  and  to  sing  with  his  song. 

Margit. 

[Absently.] 
Do  as  you  will — 

SiGXE. 

[Reproachfully .] 

Nay,  this  is  not  right. 

[Embracing  her. 
But  when  Gudmund  comes  will  your  heart  grow  light — 
Light,  as  when  I  was  a  child,  again. 

Margit. 
[To  Jierself.] 
So  much  has  changed — ah,  so  much! — since  then — 

SiGNE. 

Margit,  you  shall   be  happy  and  gay  I 

Have  vou  not  serving-maids  manv,  and  thralls  ? 

Costly  robes  hang  in  rows  on  your  chamber  walls; 

How  rich  vou  are,  none  can  sav. 

By  day  you  can  ride  in  the  forest  deep. 

Chasing  the  hart  and  the  hind; 

By  night  in  a  lordly  bower  you  can  sleep, 

On  pillows  of  silk  reclined. 

Margit. 
[Loolxing  towards  the  window.'] 
And  he  comes  to  Solhoug !     He,  as  a  guest ! 


222  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

SiGNE. 

What  say  you  ? 

Margit. 

[Tur7iing.] 

Naught. — Deck  you  out  in  your  best. 
That  fortune  which  seemeth  to  you  so  bright 
May  await  yourself. 

SiGNE. 

Margit,  say  what  you  mean! 

Margit. 

[Stroking  her  hair.'\ 

I  mean — nay,  no  more!     'Twill  shortly  be  seen — ; 
I  mean — should  a  wooer  ride  hither  to-night —  ? 

SiGNE. 

A  wooer  ?     For  whom  ? 

Margit. 
For  you. 

SiGNE. 

\Laughing  .1 

For  me  ? 
That  he'd  ta'en  the  wrong  road  full  soon  he  would  see. 

Margit. 

What  would  you  say  if  a  valiant  knight 
Begged  for  your  hand  ? 

Signe. 

That  my  heart  was  too  light 
To  think  upon  suitors  or  choose  a  mate. 


ACT  I]         THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  223 

Margit. 
But  if  he  were  mighty,  and  rich,  and  great? 

SiGXE. 

Oh,  were  he  a  king,  did  his  palace  hold 

Stores  of  rich  garments  and  ruddy  gold, 

'Twould  ne'er  set  mv  heart  desiring;. 

With  you  I  am  rich  enough  here,  meseems. 

With  summer  and  sun  and  the  murmuring  streams, 

And  the  birds  in  the  branches  quiring. 

Dear  sister  mine — here  shall  my  dwelling  be; 

And  to  give  any  wooer  my  hand  in  fee, 

For  that  I  am  too  busy,  and  my  heart  too  full  of  glee! 

[SiGNE  runs  out  to  tlw  left,  singing. 

Margit. 

[After  a  pause.]  Gudmund  Alfson  coming  hither! 
Hither — to  Solhoug  ?  No,  no,  it  cannot  be. — Signe 
heard  him  singing,  she  said!  When  I  have  heard  the 
pine-trees  moaning  in  the  forest  afar,  when  I  have  heard 
the  waterfall  thunder  and  the  birds  pipe  their  lure  in  the 
tree-tops,  it  has  many  a  time  seemed  to  me  as  though, 
through  it  all,  the  sound  of  Gudmund's  songs  came 
blended.  And  yet  he  was  far  from  here. — Signe  has 
deceived  herself.     Gudmund  cannot  be  coming. 

[Bengt  enters  hastily  from  tfie  back. 

Bengt. 

[Entering,  calls  loudly.]  An  unlooked-for  guest,  my 
wife! 

Margit. 
What  guest? 


224  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Bengt. 

Your  kinsman,  Gudmund  Alfson!  [Calls  through  the 
doorway  on  the  right.]  Let  the  best  guest-room  be  pre- 
pared— and  that  forthwith! 

Margit. 
Is  he,  then,  ah-eady  here  ? 

Bengt. 

\Looking  out  through  the  passage-way.]  Nay,  not  yet; 
but  he  cannot  be  far  off.  [Calls  again  to  the  right.]  The 
carved  oak  bed,  with  the  dragon-heads!  [Advances  to 
Margit.]  His  shield-bearer  brings  a  message  of  greet- 
ing from  him;    and  he  himself  is  close  behind. 

Margit. 

His  shield-bearer!  Comes  he  hither  with  a  shield- 
bearer  ? 

Bengt. 

Aye,  by  my  faith  he  does.  He  has  a  shield-bearer 
and  six  armed  men  in  his  train.  What  would  you  ? 
Gudmund  Alfson  is  a  far  other  man  than  he  was  when 
he  set  forth  to  seek  his  fortune.  But  I  must  ride  forth 
and  receive  him.  [Calls  out.]  The  gilded  saddle  on 
my  horse!  And  forget  not  the  bridle  with  the  serpents' 
heads!  [Looks  out  to  the  hack.]  Ha,  there  he  is  already 
at  the  gate!  Well,  then,  my  staff — my  silver-headed 
staff!  Such  a  lordly  knight — Heaven  save  us! — we 
must  receive  him  with  honour,  with  all  seemly  honour! 

[Goes  Jiustily  out  to  the  hack. 


ACT  I]         THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  225 

Margit. 

[Brooding.] 

Alone  he  departed,  a  penniless  swain; 

With  esquires  and  henchmen  now  comes  he  again. 

What  would  he  ?     Comes  he,  forsooth,  to  see 

My  bitter  and  gnawing  misery  ? 

Would  he  try  how  long,  in  my  lot  accurst, 

I  can  writhe  and  moan,  ere  my  heart-strings  burst — 

Thinks  he  that —  ?     Ah,  let  him  only  try ! 

Full  little  joy  shall  he  reap  thereby. 

[She    beckons    through   the   doorway   on   the    right. 
Three  handmaidens  enter. 
List,  little  maids,  what  I  say  to  you: 
Find  me  my  silken  mantle  blue. 
Go  with  me  into  my  bower  anon: 
My  richest  of  velvets  and  furs  do  on. 
Two  of  you  shall  deck  me  in  scarlet  and  vair, 
The  third  shall  wind  pearl-strings  into  my  hair. 
All  my  jewels  and  gauds  bear  away  with  ye! 

[The  handmaids  go  out  to  tJie  left,  taking  the  orna- 
ments ivith  them. 
Since  Margit  the  Hill-King's  bride  must  be. 
Well!  don  we  the  queenly  livery! 

[SJie  goes  out  to  the  left. 

[Bengt  ushers  in  Gudmund  Alfson,  through  the 
pent-house  passage  at  the  back. 

Bengt. 

And  now  once  more — welcome  under  Solhoug's  roof, 
my  wife's  kinsman. 

Gudmund. 

I  thank  you.     And  how  goes  it  with  her  ?     She  thrives 
well  in  every  way,  I  make  no  doubt  ? 


226  THE   FEAST  AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Bengt. 

Aye,  you  may  be  sure  she  does.  There  is  nothing 
she  lacks.  She  has  five  handmaidens,  no  less,  at  her 
beck  and  call;  a  courser  stands  ready  saddled  in  the 
stall  when  she  lists  to  ride  abroad.  In  one  word,  she 
has  all  that  a  noble  lady  can  desire  to  make  her  happy 
in  her  lot. 

GUDMUND. 

And  Margit — i  s  she  then  happy  ? 

Bengt. 

God  and  all  men  would  think  that  she  must  be;  but, 
strange  to  say — 

GUDMUND. 

What  mean  you  ? 

Bengt. 

Well,  believe  it  or  not  as  you  list,  but  it  seems  to  me 
that  Margit  was  merrier  of  heart  in  the  days  of  her 
poverty,  than  since  she  became  the  lady  of  Solhoug. 

GuDMUND. 

[To  himself^     I  knew  it;    so  it  must  be. 

Bengt. 
What  say  you,  kinsman  ? 

GuDMUND. 

I  say  that  I  wonder  greatly  at  what  you  tell  me  of  your 
wife. 


ACT  I]         THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  227 

Bengt. 

Aye,  you  may  be  sure  I  wonder  at  it  too.  On  the 
faith  and  troth  of  an  honest  gentleman,  'tis  beyond  me 
to  guess  what  more  she  can  desire.  I  am  about  her  all 
day  long;  and  no  one  can  say  of  me  that  I  rule  her 
harshly.  All  the  cares  of  household  and  husbandry  I 
have  taken  on  myself;  yet  notwithstanding —  Well, 
well,  you  were  ever  a  merry  heart;  I  doubt  not  you  will 
bring  sunshine  with  you.  Hush!  here  comes  Dame 
Margit!     Let  her  not  see  that  I — 

[Margit  enters  from  the  left,  richly  dressed. 

GUDMUND. 

\Going  to  meet  her.]     Margit — my  dear  Margit! 

Margit 

[Stops,  and  looks  at  him,  without  recognition.]  Your 
pardon.  Sir  Knight;  but — ?  [As  though  she  only  noio 
recognised  him.]  Surely,  if  I  mistake  not,  'tis  Gudmund 
Alfson.  [Holding  out  her  hand  to  him. 

Gudmund. 
[Without  taking  it.]     And  you  did  not  at  once  know 


me  again  ? 


Bengt. 


[Laughing.]  Why,  Margit,  of  what  are  you  thinking  ? 
I  told  you  but  a  moment  agone  that  your  kinsman — 

Margit. 

[Crossing  to  tlie  table  on  the  right.]  Twelve  years  is  a 
long  time,  Gudmund.  The  freshest  plant  may  wither 
ten  times  over  in  that  space. 


228  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

GUDMUND. 

'Tis  seven  years  since  last  we  met. 

Margit. 
Surely  it  must  be  more  than  that! 

GuDMUND. 

[Looking  at  her.]  I  could  almost  think  so.  But  'tis 
as  I  say. 

Margit. 

How  strange!  I  must  have  been  but  a  child  then; 
and  it  seems  to  me  a  whole  eternity  since  I  was  a  child. 
[Throws  herself  down  on  a  chair. \  Well,  sit  you  down, 
my  kinsman!  Rest  you,  for  to-night  you  shall  dance, 
and  rejoice  us  with  your  singing.  \With  a  forced  smile.] 
Doubtless  you  know  we  are  merry  here  to-day — we  are 
holding  a  feast. 

GuDMUND. 

'Twas  told  me  as  I  entered  your  homestead. 

Bengt. 
Aye,  'tis  three  years  to-day  since  I  became — 

Margit. 

[Interruptiiig.]  My  kinsman  has  already  heard  it. 
[To  GuDMUND.]     Will  you  not  lay  aside  your  cloak? 

GUDMUXD. 

I  thank  you,  Dame  Margit;  but  it  seems  to  me  cold 
here — colder  than  I  had  foreseen. 


ACT  I]         THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  229 

Bengt. 

For  my  part,  I  am  warm  enough;  but  then  I  have  a 
hundred  things  to  do  and  to  take  order  for.  [To  Mar- 
git.]  Let  not  the  time  seem  long  to  our  guest  while  I 
am  absent.     You  can  talk  together  of  the  old  days. 

[Going. 

Margit. 

[Hesitating.]     Are  you  going  ?     Will  you  not  rather—  ? 

Bengt. 

[Laughing,  to  Gudmund,  as  he  comes  forward  again.] 
See  you  well — Sir  Bengt  of  Solhoug  is  the  man  to  make 
the  women  fain  of  him.  How  short  soe'er  the  space, 
my  wife  cannot  abide  to  be  without  me.  [To  Margit, 
caressing  her.]  Content  you;  I  shall  soon  be  with  you 
again.  [He  goes  out  to  the  back. 

Margit. 

[To  herself.]     Oh,  torture,  to  have  to  endure  it  all. 

[A  short  silence. 

Gudmund. 

How  goes  it,  I  pray,  with  your  sister  dear  ? 

Margit. 
Right  well,  I  thank  you. 

Gudmund. 

They  said  she  was  here 
With  you. 


230  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Margit. 

She  has  been  here  ever  since  we — 

[Breaks  off. 
She  came,  now  three  years  since,  to  Solhoug  with  me. 

[After  a  pause. 
Ere  long  she'll  be  here,  her  friend  to  greet. 

GUDMUND. 

Well  I  mind  me  of  Signe's  nature  sweet. 

No  guile  she  dreamed  of,  no  evil  knew. 

When  I  call  to  remembrance  her  eyes  so  blue 

I  must  think  of  the  angels  in  heaven. 

But  of  years  there  have  passed  no  fewer  than  seven; 

In  that  time  much  may  have  altered.     Oh,  say 

If  she,  too,  has  changed  so  while  I've  been  away  ? 

Margit. 

She  too  ?     Is  it,  pray,  in  the  halls  of  kings 
That  you  learn  such  courtly  ways.  Sir  Knight  ? 
To  remind  me  thus  of  the  change  time  brings — 

GuDMUND. 

Nay,  Margit,  my  meaning  you  read  aright! 

You  were  kind  to  me,  both,  in  those  far-away  years — 

Your  eyes,  when  we  parted  were  wet  with  tears. 

We  swore  like  brother  and  sister  still 

To  hold  together  in  good  hap  or  ill. 

'Mid  the  other  maids  like  a  sun  you  shone, 

Far,  far  and  wide  was  your  beauty  known. 

You  are  no  less  fair  than  you  were,  I  wot; 

But  Solhoug's  mistress,  I  see,  has  forgot 

The  penniless  kinsman.     So  hard  is  your  mind 

That  ever  of  old  was  gentle  and  kind. 


ACT  I]         THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  231 

Margit. 
[Choking  back  her  tears.] 
Ave,  of  old — ! 

GUDMUND. 

[Looks  compassionately  at  her,  is  silent  for  a  little, 
then  says  in  a  subdued  voice. 

Shall  we  do  as  your  husband  said  ? 
Pass  the  time  with  talk  of  the  dear  old  days  ? 

Margit. 

\y  ehemently .] 

No,  no,  not  of  them!  [More  calmly. 

Their  memory's  dead. 
My  mind  unwillingly  backward  strays. 
Tell  rather  of  what  your  life  has  been. 
Of  what  in  the  wide  world  you've  done  and  seen. 
Adventures  you've  lacked  not,  well  I  ween — 
In  all  the  warmth  and  the  space  out  yonder. 
That  heart  and  mind  should  be  light,  what  wonder  ? 

GuDMUND. 

In  the  King's  high  hall  I  found  not  the  joy 
That  I  knew  by  my  own  poor  hearth  as  a  boy. 

Margit. 
[Without  looking  at  him.] 

While  I,  as  at  Solhoug  each  day  flits  past. 
Thank  Heaven  that  here  has  my  lot  been  cast. 

GuDMUND. 

'Tis  well  if  for  this  you  can  thankful  be — 


232  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Margit. 

[Vehemently.] 

Why  not  ?     For  am  I  not  honoured  and  free  ? 
Must  not  all  folk  here  obey  my  hest  ? 
Rule  I  not  all  things  as  seemeth  me  best  ? 
Here  I  am  first,  with  no  second  beside  me; 
And  that,  as  you  know,  from  of  old  satisfied  me. 
Did  you  think  you  would  find  me  weary  and  sad  ? 
Nay,  my  mind  is  at  peace  and  my  heart  is  glad. 
You  might,  then,  have  spared  your  journey  here 
To  Solhoug;   'twill  profit  you  little,  I  fear. 

GUDMUND. 

What,  mean  you,  Dame  Margit  ? 

Margit. 

[Rising.] 

I  understand  all — 
I  know  why  you  come  to  my  lonely  hall. 

GuDMUND. 

And  you  welcome  me  not,  though  you  know  why  I  came  ? 

[Bowing,  and  about  to  go. 
God's  peace  and  farewell,  then,  my  noble  dame! 

Margit. 

To  have  stayed  in  the  royal  hall,  indeed. 
Sir  Knight,  had  better  become  your  fame. 

GUDMUND. 

[Stops.] 
In  the  royal  hall  ?     Do  you  scoff  at  my  need  ? 


ACT  I]         THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  233 

Margit, 

Your  need  ?     You  are  ill  to  content,  my  friend ; 
Where,  I  would  know,  do  you  think  to  end  ? 
You  can  dress  you  in  velvet  and  cramoisie, 
You  stand  by  the  throne,  and  have  lands  in  fee — 

GUDMUND. 

Do  you  deem,  then,  that  fortune  is  kind  to  me? 
You  said  but  now  that  full  well  you  knew 
What  brought  me  to  Solhoug — 

Margit. 

I  told  you  true! 

GuDMUND. 

Then  you  know  what  of  late  has  befallen  me; — 
You  have  heard  the  tale  of  my  outlawry  ? 

Margit. 
[Terror-struck.] 
An  outlaw!     You,  Gudmund! 

GuDMUND. 

I  am  indeed. 
But  I  swear,  by  the  Holy  Christ  I  swear, 
Had  I  known  the  thoughts  of  your  heart,  I  ne'er 
Had  bent  me  to  Solhoug  in  my  need. 
I  thought  that  you  still  were  gentle-hearted. 
As  you  ever  were  wont  to  be  ere  we  parted : 
But  I  truckle  not  to  you;  the  wood  is  wide, 
My  hand  and  my  bow  shall  fend  for  me  there; 
I  will  drink  of  the  mountain  brook,  and  hide 
My  head  in  the  wild  beast's  lair. 

[On  the  point  of  going. 


234  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Margit. 
[Holding  him  back.] 

Outlawed!     Nay,  stay!     I  swear  to  you 
That  naught  of  your  outlawry  I  knew. 

GUDMUND. 

It  is  as  I  tell  vou.     Mv  life's  at  stake; 

And  to  live  are  all  men  fain. 

Three  nights  like  a  dog  'neath  the  skv  I've  lain. 

My  couch  on  the  hillside  forced  to  make. 

With  for  pilloAV  the  boulder  grey. 

Though  too  proud  to  knock  at  the  door  of  the  stranger. 

And  pray  him  for  aid  in  the  hour  of  danger. 

Yet  strong  was  my  hope  as  I  held  on  my  way: 

I  thought :  When  to  Solhoug  you  come  at  last 

Then  all  your  pains  will  be  done  and  past. 

You  have  sure  friends  there,  whatever  betide. — 

But  hope  like  a  wayside  flower  shrivels  up; 

Though  your  husband  met  me  with  flagon  and  cup, 

And  his  doors  flung  open  wide. 

Within,  your  dwelling  seems  chill  and  bare; 

Dark  is  the  hall;  my  friends  are  not  there. 

'Tis  well ;  I  will  back  to  my  hills  from  your  halls. 

Margit. 

[Beseechingly.] 


Oh,  hear  me! 


GuDMUND. 


My  soul  is  not  base  as  a  thrall's. 
Now  life  to  me  seems  a  thing  of  naught; 
Trulv  I  hold  it  scarce  worth  a  thought. 


ACT  I]  THE    FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  235 

You  have  killed  all  that  I  hold  most  dear; 
Of  my  fairest  hopes  I  follow  the  bier. 
Farewell,  then.  Dame  Margit! 

Margit. 

Nay,  Gudmund,  hear! 
By  all  that  is  holy — ! 

Gudmund. 

Live  on  as  before 
Live  on  in  honour  and  joyance — 
Never  shall  Gudmund  darken  vour  door. 
Never  shall  cause  you  'noyance. 

Margit. 

Enough,  enough.     Your  bitterness 

You  presently  shall  rue. 

Had  I  known  you  outlawed,  shelterless. 

Hunted  the  country  through — 

Trust  me,  the  day  that  brought  you  here 

Would  have  seemed  the  fairest  of  many  a  year; 

And  a  feast  I  had  counted  it  indeed 

When  you  turned  to  Solhoug  for  refuge  in  need ! 

GUDMUXD. 

What  say  you —  }     How  shall  I  read  your  mind  ? 

Margit. 
[Holding  out  her  hand  to  him.] 
Read  this:  that  at  Solhoug  dwell  kinsfolk  kind. 

Gudmund. 
But  you  said  of  late — ? 


236  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  [act 

Margit. 

To  that  pay  no  heed. 
Or  hear  me,  and  understand  indeed. 
For  me  is  life  but  a  long,  black  night. 
Nor  sun,  nor  star  for  me  shines  bright. 
I  have  sold  my  youth  and  my  liberty. 
And  none  from  my  bargain  can  set  me  free. 
My  heart's  content  I  have  bartered  for  gold. 
With  gilded  chains  I  have  fettered  myself; 
Trust  me,  it  is  but  comfort  cold 
To  the  sorrowful  soul,  the  pride  of  pelf. 
How  blithe  was  my  childhood — how  free  from  care! 
Our  house  was  lowly  and  scant  our  store; 
But  treasures  of  hope  in  my  breast  I  bore. 

GUDMUND. 

[Whose  eyes  have  been  fixed  upon  Jier.J 
E'en  then  you  were  growing  to  beauty  rare. 

Margit. 

Mayhap;   but  the  praises  showered  on  me 

Caused  the  wreck  of  my  happiness — that  I  now  see. 

To  far-off  lands  away  you  sailed; 

But  deep  in  my  heart  was  graven  each  song 

You  had  ever  sung;   and  their  glamour  was  strong; 

With  a  mist  of  dreams  my  brow  they  veiled. 

In  them  all  the  joys  you  had  dwelt  upon 

That  can  find  a  home  in  the  beating  breast; 

You  had  sung  so  oft  of  the  lordly  life 

'Mid  knights  and  ladies.     And  lo!  anon 

Came  wooers  a  many  from  east  and  from  west; 

And  so — I  became  Bcngt  Gauteson's  wife. 


ACT  I]         THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  237 

GUDMUND. 

Oh,  Margit! 

Margit. 

The  days  that  passed  were  but  few 
Ere  with  tears  my  folly  I  'gan  to  rue. 
To  think,  my  kinsman  and  friend,  on  thee 
Was  all  the  comfort  left  to  me. 
How  empty  now  seemed  Solhoug's  hall. 
How  hateful  and  drear  its  great  rooms  all! 
Hither  came  many  a  knight  and  dame. 
Came  many  a  skald  to  sing  my  fame. 
But  never  a  one  who  could  fathom  aright 
My  spirit  and  all  its  yearning — 
I  shivered,  as  though  in  the  Hill-King's  might; 
Yet  my  head  throbbed,  my  blood  was  burning. 

GuDMUND. 

But  your  husband —  ? 

Margit. 

He  never  to  me  was  dear. 
'Twas  his  gold  was  my  undoing. 
When  he  spoke  to  me,  aye,  or  e'en  drew  near. 
My  spirit  writhed  with  ruing.  [Clasping  her  hands. 

And  thus  have  I  lived  for  three  long  years — 
A  life  of  sorrow,  of  unstanched  tears! 
Your  coming  was  rumoured.     You  know  full  well 
What  pride  deep  down  in  my  heart  doth  dwell. 
I  hid  my  anguish,  I  veiled  my  woe. 
For  you  were  the  last  that  the  truth  must  know. 

GuDMUND. 

[Moved.] 
'Twas  therefore,  then,  that  you  turned  away — 


238  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Margit. 
[Not  looking  at  him.] 
I  thought  you  came  at  my  woe  to  jeer. 

GUDMUND. 

Margit,  how  could  you  think —  ? 

Margit. 

Nay,  nay. 
There  was  reason  enough  for  such  a  fear. 
But  thanks  be  to  Heaven,  that  fear  is  gone; 
And  now  no  longer  I  stand  alone; 
My  spirit  now  is  as  light  and  free 
As  a  child's  at  play  'neath  the  greenwood  tree. 

[With  a  sudden  start  of  fear. 
Ah,  where  are  my  wits  fled !     How  could  I  forget—  ? 
Ye  saints,  I  need  sorely  your  succor  yet! 
An  outlaw,  you  said —  ? 

GUDMUND. 

[Siniling.] 
Nay,  now  I'm  at  home; 
Hither  the  King's  men  scarce  dare  come. 

Margit. 

Your  fall  has  been  sudden.     I  pray  you,  tell 
How  you  lost  the  King's  favour. 

GuDMUND. 

'Twas  thus  it  befell. 
You  know  how  I  journeyed  to  France  of  late, 
When  the  Chancellor,  Audun  of  Hegranes, 
Fared  thither  from  Bergen,  in  royal  state. 
To  lead  home  the  King's  bride,  the  fair  Princess, 


ACT  I]         THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  239 

With  her  squires,  and  maidens,  and  ducats  hright. 
Sir  Audun's  a  fair  and  a  stately  knight, 
The  Princess  shone  with  a  beauty  rare — 
Her  eyes  seemed  full  of  a  burning  prayer. 
They  would  oft  talk  alone  and  in  whispers,  the  two — 
Of  what  ?     That  nobody  guessed  or  knew. 
There  came  a  night  when  I  leant  at  ease 
Against  the  galley's  railing; 
My  thoughts  flew  onward  to  Norway's  leas. 
With  the  milk-white  seagulls  sailing. 
Two  voices  whispered  behind  my  back; — 
I  turned — it  was  he  and  she; 
I  knew  them  well,  though  the  night  was  black. 
But  they — they  saw  not  me. 
She  gazed  upon  him  with  sorrowful  eyes 
And  whispered:  "Ah,  if  to  southern  skies 
We  could  turn  the  vessel's  prow. 
And  we  were  alone  in  the  bark,  we  twain, 
My  heart,  methinks,  would  find  peace  again. 
Nor  would  fever  burn  my  brow." 
Sir  Audun  answers;  and  straight  she  replies. 
In  words  so  fierce,  so  bold; 
Like  glittering  stars  I  can  see  her  eyes; 
She  begged  him —  [Breaking  off. 

My  blood  ran  cold. 


She  begged — ? 


Margit. 


GUDMUND. 


I  arose,  and  they  vanished  apace; 
All  was  silent,  fore  and  aft; — 

[Producing  a  small  phial. 
But  this  I  found  by  their  resting  place. 


240  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  act  i 

Margit. 
And  that — ? 

GUDMUND. 

[Lowering  his  voice.] 

Holds  a  secret  draught. 
A  drop  of  this  in  your  enemy's  cup 
And  his  life  will  sicken  and  wither  up. 
No  leechcraft  helps  'gainst  the  deadly  thing. 


And  that — ? 


Margit. 

GuDMUND. 

That  draught  was  meant  for  the  King. 
Margit. 


Great  God! 


GuDMUND. 

[Putting  up  the  phial  again.] 

That  I  found  it  was  well  for  them  all. 
In  three  days  more  was  our  voyage  ended; 
Then  I  fled,  by  my  faithful  men  attended. 
For  I  knew  right  well,  in  the  royal  hall, 
That  Audun  subtly  would  work  my  fall, — 
Accusing  me — 

Margit. 

Aye,  but  at  Solhoug  he 
Cannot  harm  you.     All  as  of  old  will  be. 

GUDMUNI). 

All  ?     Nay,  Margit — you  then  were  free. 


ACT  I]         THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  241 

iVlARGIT. 

You  mean —  ? 

GUDMUND. 

I  ?     Nay,  I  meant  naught.     My  brain 
Is  wildered;   but  ah,  I  am  bhthe  and  fain 
To  be,  as  of  old,  with  vou  sisters  twain. 
But  tell  me, — Signe —  ? 

Margit. 

[Points  smiling  towards  the  door  on  the  left.] 

She  comes  anon. 
To  greet  her  kinsman  she  needs  must  don 
Her  trinkets — a  task  that  takes  time,  'tis  plain. 

GUDMUND. 

I  must  see — I  must  see  if  she  knows  me  again. 

[He  goes  out  to  tJie  left. 

Margit. 

[Folloicing  him  with  her  eyes.]  How  fair  and  manlike 
he  is!  [With  a  sigh.]  There  is  little  likeness  'twixt  him 
and —  [Begins  pidting  things  in  order  on  tJie  table,  hut 
presently  stops.]  "You  then  were  free,"  he  said.  Yes, 
then!  [A  sJwrt  pause.]  'Twas  a  strange  tale,  that  of 
the  Princess  who —  She  held  another  dear,  and  then — 
Ave,  those  women  of  far-off  lands —  I  have  heard  it 
before — they  are  not  weak  as  we  are;  they  do  not  fear 
to  pass  from  thought  to  deed.  [Takes  up  a  goblet  which 
stands  on  the  table.]  'Twas  in  this  beaker  that  Gud- 
mund  and  I,  when  he  went  away,  drank  to  his  happy 
return.       'Tis   well-nigh   the   only    heirloom    I    brought 


242  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  [act  i 

with  me  to  Solhoug.  [Putting  the  goblet  away  in  a  cup- 
hoard.]  How  soft  is  this  summer  day;  and  how  light 
it  is  in  here!  So  sweetly  has  the  sun  not  shone  for 
three  long  years. 

[SiGNE,  aiid  after  her  Gudmund,  enters  from  the  left. 

SiGNE. 

\Runs  laughing  up  to  IMargit.] 
ria,  ha,  ha!     He  will  not  believe  that  'tis  I! 

Margit. 
[Smiling,  to  Gudmund.] 

You  see:  while  in  far-off  lands  you  strayed, 
She,  too,  has  altered,  the  little  maid. 

Gudmund. 

Aye  truly!     But  that  she  should  be —     Why, 
'Tis  a  marvel  in  very  deed. 

[  Takes  both  SiGNii's  hands  and  looks  at  her. 
Yet,  when  I  look  in  these  eyes  so  blue, 
The  innocent  child-mind  I  still  can  read — 
Yes,  Signe,  I  know  that  'tis  you! 
I  needs  must  laugh  when  I  think  how  oft 
I  have  thought  of  you  perched  on  my  shoulder  aloft 
As  you  used  to  ride.     You  were  then  a  child; 
Now  you  are  a  nixie,  spell-weaving,  wild. 

Signe. 
[Threatening  with  her  finger.] 

Beware!     If  the  nixie's  ire  you  awaken, 
Soon  in  her  nets  you  will  find  yourself  taken. 


ACT  I]         THE   FEAST  AT   SOLHOUG  243 

GUDMUND. 

[To  himself.] 
I  am  snared  already,  it  seems  to  me. 

SiGNE. 

But,  Gudmund,  wait — you  have  still  to  see 
How  I've  shielded  your  harp  from  the  dust  and  the  rust. 

[As  she  goes  out  to  the  left. 
You  shall  teach  me  all  of  your  songs!     You  must! 

Gudmund. 

[Softly,  as  hefolloics  her  with  his  eyes.] 

She  has  flushed  to  the  loveliest  rose  of  May, 
That  was  yet  but  a  bud  in  the  morning's  ray. 

SiGNE. 

[Returning  with  tlie  harp.] 
Behold! 

Gudmund. 

[Taking  it.] 

My  harp!     As  bright  as  of  yore! 

[Striking  one  or  two  chords. 
Still  the  old  chords  ring  sweet  and  clear — 
On  the  wall,  untouched,  thou  shalt  hang  no  more. 

Margit. 
[Looking  out  at  the  back.] 
Our  guests  are  coming. 

SiGNE. 

[While  Gudmund  preludes  his  song.] 

Hush — hush!     Oh,  hear! 


244  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  [act  i 

GUDMUND. 

[Sings.] 

I  roamed  through  the  uplands  so  heavy  of  cheer; 
The  Httle  birds  quavered  in  bush  and  in  brere; 
The  Httle  birds  quavered,  around  and  above: 
Wouldst  know  of  the  sowing  and  growing  of  love  ? 

It  grows  like  the  oak  tree  through  slow- rolling  years; 
'Tis  nourished  by  dreams,  and  by  songs,  and  by  tears; 
But  swiftly  'tis  sown;  ere  a  moment  speeds  by. 
Deep,  deep  in  the  heart  love  is  rooted  for  aye. 

[As  he  strikes  the  concluding  chords,  he  goes  toivards 
the  back,  where  he  lays  down  his  harp. 

SiGNE. 

[Thoughtfully,  repeats  to  herself.] 

But  swiftly  'tis  sown;    ere  a  moment  speeds  by, 
Deep,  deep  in  the  heart  love  is  rooted  for  aye. 

Margit. 

[Absently.]     Did    you    speak    to    me.' — I    heard    not 
clearly —  ? 

SiGNE. 

I  ?     No,  no-     I  only  meant — 

[Slie  again  becovies  absorbed  in  dreams. 

Margit. 
[Half  aloud;  looking  straight  before  Iter.] 

It  grows  like  the  oak  tree  through  slow-rolling  years; 
'Tis  nourished  by  dreams,  and  by  songs  and  by  tears. 


ACT  I]         THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  245 

SiGNE. 

[Returning  to  herself.]     You  said  that—? 

Margit. 

[Drawing  her  hand  over  her  hrow.]     Nay,  'twas  noth- 
ing.    Come,  we  must  go  meet  our  guests. 

[Bengt  enters  with  many  Guests,   both  men  and 
women,  through  the  passage-way. 

Guests. 
[Sing.] 

With  song  and  harping  enter  we 
The  feast-hall  opened  wide; 

Peace  to  our  hostess  kind  and  free. 
All  happiness  to  her  betide. 

O'er  Solhoug's  roof  for  ever  may- 
Bright  as  to-day 
The  heavens  abide. 


ACT   SECOND 

A  birch  grove  adjoining  the  house,  one  corner  of  which  is 
seen  to  the  left.  At  tlie  hack,  a  footpath  leads  up  the 
hillside.  To  the  right  of  the  footpath  a  river  comes 
tumbling  down  a  ravine  and  loses  itself  among 
boidders  and  stones.  It  is  a  light  summer  evening. 
The  door  leading  to  the  house  stands  open;  the  win- 
dows are  lighted  up.     Music  is  heard  from  within. 

The  Guests. 

[Singiyig  in  the  Feast  Hall.] 

Set  bow  to  fiddle!     To  sound  of  strings 
We'll  dance  till  night  shall  furl  her  wings. 

Through  the  long  hours  glad  and  golden! 
Like  blood-red  blossom  the  maiden  glows — 
Come,  bold  young  wooer,  and  hold  the  rose 

In  a  soft  embrace  enf olden. 
[Knut  Gesling  and  Erik  op  Hegge  enter  from  the 

house.     Sounds  of  music,  dancing  and  merriment 

are  heard  from  within  during  what  follows. 

Erik. 
If  only  you  come  not  to  repent  it,  Knut. 

Knut. 

That  is  my  affair. 

246 


ACT  II]        THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  247 

Erik. 

Well,  say  what  you  will,  'tis  a  daring  move.  You  are 
the  King's  Sheriff.  Commands  go  forth  to  you  that  you 
shall  seize  the  person  of  Gudmund  Alfson,  wherever  you 
may  find  him.  And  now,  when  you  have  him  in  your 
grasp,  you  proffer  him  your  friendship,  and  let  him  go 
freely,  whithersoever  he  will. 

Knut. 

I  know  what  I  am  doing,  I  sought  him  in  his  own 
dwelling,  but  there  he  was  not  to  be  found.  If,  now, 
I  went  about  to  seize  him  here — think  you  that  Dame 
Margit  would  be  minded  to  give  me  Signe  to  wife? 

Erik. 

[With  deliberation.]  No,  by  fair  means  it  might 
scarcely  be,  but — 

Knut. 

And  by  foul  means  I  am  loth  to  proceed.  Moreover, 
Gudmund  is  my  friend  from  bygone  days;  and  he  can 
be  helpful  to  me.  [With  decision.]  Therefore  it  shall 
be  as  I  have  said.  This  evening  no  one  at  Solhoug  shall 
know  that  Gudmund  Alfson  is  an  outlaw; — to-morrow 
he  must  look  to  himself. 

Erik. 
Aye,  but  the  King's  decree  ? 

Knut. 

Oh,  the  King's  decree!  You  know  as  well  as  I  that 
the  King's  decree  is  but  little  heeded  here  in  the  up- 
lands.   Were  the  King's  decree  to  be  enforced,  many  a 


248  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG        [act  ii 

stout  fellow  among  us  would  have  to  pay  dear  both  for 

bride-rape  and  for  man-slaying.     Come  this  way,  I  would 

fain  know  where  Signe — ?         [They  go  out  to  the  right. 

[GuDMUND  and  Signe  come  down  the  footpath  at  the 

back. 

Signe. 

Oh,  speak !     Say  on !     For  sweeter  far 
Such  words  than  sweetest  music  are. 

GuDMUND. 

Signe,  my  flower,  my  lily  fair! 

Signe. 
[In  subdued,  but  happy  wonderment.] 
I  am  dear  to  him — I! 

Gudmund. 
As  none  other  I  swear. 

Signe. 

And  is  it  I  that  can  bind  your  will! 
And  is  it  I  that  your  heart  can  fill! 
Oh,  dare  I  believe  you  ? 

Gudmund. 

Indeed  you  may. 
List  to  me,  Signe!     The  years  sped  away, 
But  faithful  was  I  in  my  thoughts  to  you. 
My  fairest  flowers,  ye  sisters  two. 
My  own  heart  I  could  not  clearly  read. 
When  I  left,  my  Signe  was  but  a  child, 
A  fairy  elf,  like  the  creatures  wild 
Who  play,  while  we  sleep,  in  wood  and  mead. 


ACT  II]        THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  249 

But  in  Solhoug's  hall  to-day,  right  loud 

My  heart  spake,  and  right  clearly; 

It  told  me  that  Margit's  a  lady  proud. 

Whilst  you're  the  sweet  maiden  I  love  most  dearly. 

SiGNE. 

[Who  has  only  half  listened  to  his  words!\ 

I  mind  me,  we  sat  in  the  hearth's  red  glow. 

One  winter  evening — 'tis  long  ago — 

And  you  sang  to  me  of  the  maiden  fair 

Whom  the  neckan  had  lured  to  his  watery  lair. 

There  she  forgot  both  father  and  mother. 

There  she  forgot  both  sister  and  brother; 

Heaven  and  earth  and  her  Christian  speech. 

And  her  God,  she  forgot  them  all  and  each. 

But  close  by  the  strand  a  stripling  stood 

And  he  was  heartsore  and  heavy  of  mood. 

He  struck  from  his  harpstrings  notes  of  woe, 

That  wide  o'er  the  waters  rang  loud,  rang  low. 

The  spell-bound  maid  in  the  tarn  so  deep, 

His  strains  awoke  from  her  heavy  sleep. 

The  neckan  must  grant  her  release  from  his  rule, 

She  rose  through  the  lilies  afloat  on  the  pool — 

Then  looked  she  to  heaven  while  on  green  earth  she  trod. 

And  wakened  once  more  to  her  faith  and  her  God. 

GUDMUND. 

Signe,  my  fairest  of  flowers! 

SiGNE. 

It  seems 
That  I,  too,  have  lived  in  a  world  of  dreams. 
But  the  strange  deep  words  you  to-night  have  spoken. 


250  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG       [act  ii 

Of  the  power  of  love,  have  my  slumber  broken. 

The  heavens  seemed  never  so  blue  to  me. 

Never  the  world  so  fair; 

I  can  understand,  as  I  roam  with  thee, 

The  song  of  the  birds  in  air. 

GUDMUND. 

So  mighty  is  love — it  stirs  in  the  breast 
Thoughts  and  longings  and  happy  unrest. 
But  come,  let  us  both  to  your  sister  go. 

SiGNE. 

Would  you  tell  her — ? 

GuDMUND. 

Everything  she  must  know. 

SiGNE, 

Then  go  you  alone; — I  feel  that  my  cheek 
Would  be  hot  with  blushes  to  hear  you  speak. 

GuDMUND. 

So  be  it,  I  go. 

SiGNE. 

And  here  will  I  bide; 

[Listening  towards  the  right. 
Or  better — down  by  the  riverside, 
I  hear  Knut  Gesling,  with  maidens  and  men. 

GuDMUND. 

There  will  you  stay? 


ACT  II]        THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  251 

SiGXE. 

Till  vou  come  agrain. 
[She  goes  out  to  the  right.     Gudmund  goes  into  the 
house. 

[Margit  enters  from  behind  the  house  on  the  left. 

Margit. 

In  the  hall  there  is  gladness  and  revelrv; 
The  dancers  foot  it  with  jest  and  glee. 
The  air  weighed  hot  on  my  brow  and  breast; 
For  Gudmund,  he  was  not  there. 

[She  drau-s  a  deep  breath. 
Out  here  'tis  better:  here's  quiet  and  rest. 
How  sweet  is  the  cool  night  air!  \A  brooding  silence. 

That  horrible  thought!     Oh,  why  should  it  be 
That  wherever  I  go  it  follows  me  ? 
The  phial — doth  a  secret  draught  contain; 
A  drop  of  this  in  my — enemy's  cup. 
And  his  life  would  sicken  and  wither  up; 
The  leech's  skill  would  be  tried  in  vain. 

\Again  a  silence. 
Were  I  sure  that  Gudmund — held  me  dear — 
Then  little  I'd  care  for — 

[Gudmund  enters  from  the  house. 

Gudmund. 

You,  Margit,  here? 
And  alone.''     I  have  sought  you  everywhere. 

Margit. 

'Tis  cool  here.     I  sickened  of  heat  and  glare. 
See  you  how  yonder  the  white  mists  glide 
Softlv  over  the  marshes  wide  ? 


252  THE   FEAST  AT   SOLHOUG         [act  ii 

Here  it  is  neither  dark  nor  light, 

But  midway  between  them —  [To  herself. 

— as  in  my  breast. 

[Looking  at  him. 
Is't  not  so — when  you  wander  on  such  a  night 
You  hear,  though  but  half  to  yourself  confessed, 
A  stirring  of  secret  life  through  the  hush, 
In  tree  and  in  leaf,  in  flower  and  in  rush  ? 

[With  a  sudden  change  of  tone. 
Can  you  guess  what  I  wish  ? 

GUDMUND. 

Well  ? 

Margit. 

That  I  could  be 
The  nixie  that  haunts  yonder  upland  lea. 
How  cunningly  I  should  weave  my  spell! 
Trust  me — ! 

GuDMUND. 

Margit,  what  ails  you.''     Tell! 

Margit. 
[Paying  no  heed  to  him.] 

How  I  should  quaver  my  magic  lay! 
Quaver  and  croon  it  both  night  and  day! 

[Uith  growing  vehemence. 
How  I  would  lure  the  knight  so  bold 
Through  the  greenwood  glades  to  my  mountain  hold. 
There  were  the  world  and  its  woes  forgot 
In  the  burning  joys  of  our  blissful  lot. 


ACT  II]        THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  253 

GUDMUND. 

Margit !     Margit ! 

Margit. 

[Ever  more  wildly.] 

At  midnight's  hour 
Sweet  were  our  sleep  in  my  lonely  bower; — 
And  if  death  should  come  with  the  dawn,  I  trow 
'Twere  sweet  to  die  so; — what  thinkest  thou? 

GuDMUND. 

You  are  sick! 

Margit. 

[Bursting  into  laughter.] 

Ha,   ha! — Let  me  laugh!     'Tis  good 
To  laugh  when  the  heart  is  in  laughing  mood! 

GuDMUND. 

I  see  that  vou  still  have  the  same  wild  soul 
As  of  old — 

Margit. 

[With  sudden  seriousness.] 

Nay,  let  not  that  vex  your  mind, 
'Tis  only  at  midnight  it  mocks  control; 
By  day  I  am  timid  as  any  hind. 
How  tame  I  have  grown,  you  yourself  must  say, 
When  you  think  on  the  women  in  lands  far  away — 
Of  that  fair  Princess — ah,   she   was  wild ! 
Beside  her  lamblike  am  I  and  mild. 
She  did  not  helplessly  yearn  and  brood, 
She  would  have  acted;   and  that — 


254  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG         [act  ii 

GUDMUND. 

'Tis  good 
You  remind  me;  straightway  I'll  cast  away 
What  to  me  is  valueless  after  this  day — 

[Takes  out  the  phial. 

Margit. 
The  phial!     You  meant — ? 

GUDMUND. 

I  thought  it  might  be 
At  need  a  friend  that  should  set  me  free 
Should  the  King's  men  chance  to  lay  hands  on  me. 
But  from  to-night  it  has  lost  its  worth; 
Now  will  I  fight  all  the  kings  of  earth, 
Gather  my  kinsfolk  and  friends  to  the  strife. 
And  battle  right  stoutly  for  freedom  and  life. 

[Is  about  to  throw  the  phial  against  a  rock. 

Margit. 
[Seizing  his  arm.] 
Nay,  hold!     Let  me  have  it — 

GUDMUND. 

First  tell  me  why  ? 

Margit. 

I'd  fain  fling  it  down  to  the  neckan  hard  by, 
Who  so  often  has  made  my  dull  hours  fleet 
With  his  harping  and  songs,  so  strange  and  sweet. 
Give  it  me!  [Takes  the  phial  from  his  hand. 

There !  [Feigns  to  throw  it  into  the  river. 


ACT  II]         THE   FEAST  AT   SOLHOUG  255 

GUDMUND. 

[Goes  to  the  right,  and  looks  down  into  the  ravine.] 
Have  you  thrown  it  away  ? 

Margit. 

\Concealing  the  phial.] 

Aye,  surely!     You  saw — 

[Whispers  as  sJie  goes  towards  the  house. 
Now  God  help  and  spare  me! 
The  ice  must  now  either  break  or  bear  me!  [Aloud. 

Gudmund' 

GuDMUND. 

[Approaching.] 
What  would  you  ? 


Margit. 


Teach  me,  I  pray, 


How  to  interpret  the  ancient  lay 

They  sing  of  the  church  in  the  valley  there: 

A  gentle  knight  and  a  lady  fair, 

They  loved  each  other  well. 

That  very  day  on  her  bier  she  lay 

He  on  his  sword-point  fell. 

They  buried  her  by  the  northward  spire. 

And  him  by  the  south  kirk  wall; 

And  theretofore  grew  neither  bush  nor  briar 

In  the  hallowed  ground  at  all. 

But  next  spring  from  their  coffins  twain 

Two  lilies  fair  upgrew — 

And  by  and  by,  o'er  the  roof-tree  high, 

They  twined  and  they  bloomed  the  whole  year  through. 

How  read  you  the  riddle  ? 


25Q  THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG        [act  ii 

GUDMUND. 

[Looks  searchingJy  at  her.] 
I  scarce  can  say. 

Margit, 

You  may  doubtless  read  it  in  many  a  way; 
But  its  truest  meaning,  methinks,  is  clear: 
The  church  can  never  sever  two  that  hold  each  other  dear. 

GUDMUXD. 

[To  himself.] 

Ye  saints,  if  she  should — ?     Lest  worse  befall, 

'Tis  time  indeed  I  told  her  all!  [Aloud. 

Do  you  wish  for  my  happiness — Margit,  tell! 

Margit. 

[In  joyful  agitation.] 
Wish  for  it!     I! 

GuDMUND. 

Then,  wot  you  well. 
The  joy  of  my  life  now  rests  with  you — 

Margit, 

\\\''ith  an  outburst.] 
Gudmund! 

GuDMUND. 

Listen!  'tis  time  you  knew — 

[He  stops  suddenly. 

[Voices  and  laughter  are  heard  by  the  river  bank. 

SiGNE  and  some  other  Girls  enter  from  the  right, 

accompanied  by  Knut,  Erik  and  several  Younger 

Men. 


ACT  II]        THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  257 

Knut. 

[Still  at  a  distance.]  Gudmund  Alfson!  Wait;  I  must 
speak  a  word  with  you. 

[He  stops,  talking  to  Erik.     The  other  Guests  in 
tlie  meantime  enter  the  house. 

Margit. 

[To  herself .]     The  joy  of  his  life— !     What  else  can  he 
mean  but—!   [Half  aloud.]   Signe— my  dear,  dear  sister! 
[She  puts  her  arm  round  Signe 's  waist,  and  they  go 
towards  the  hack  talking  to  each  other. 

Gudmund. 

[Softly,  as  he  follows  them  with  his  eyes.]  Aye,  so  it 
were  wisest.  Both  Signe  and  I  must  away  from  Sol- 
houg.  Knut  Gesling  has  shown  himself  my  friend;  he 
will  help  me. 

Knut. 

[Softly,  to  Erik.]  Yes,  yes,  I  say,  Gudmund  is  her 
kinsman;    he  can  best  plead  my  cause. 

Erik. 
Well,  as  you  will.  [He  goes  into  the  Iiouse. 

Knut. 

[Approaching.]     Listen,  Gudmund — 

Gudmund. 

[Smiling.]     Come  you  to  tell  me  that  you  dare  no 
longer  let  me  go  free. 


258  THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG        [act  ii 

Knut. 

Dare!  Be  at  your  ease  as  to  that.  Knut  Gesling 
dares  whatever  he  will.  No,  'tis  another  matter.  You 
know  that  here  in  the  district,  I  am  held  to  be  a  wild, 
unruly  companion — 

GUDMUND. 

Aye,  and  if  rumour  lies  not — 

Knut. 

Why  no,  much  that  it  reports  may  be  true  enough. 
But  now,  I  must  tell  you — 

[They  go,  conversing,  up  towards  tlie  back. 

SiGNis. 

[To  Margit,  as  they  come  forward  beside  the  house.]  I 
understand  you  not.  You  speak  as  though  an  unlooked- 
for  happiness  had  befallen  you.    What  is  in  your  mind  ? 

Margit. 

Signe — you  are  still  a  child;  you  know  not  what  it 
means  to  have  ever  in  your  heart  the  dread  of —  [Sud- 
denly breaking  off.]  Think,  Signe,  what  it  must  be  to 
wither  and  die  without  ever  having  lived. 

Signe. 

[Looks  at  her  in  astonishment,  and  shakes  her  head.] 
Nay,  but,  Margit — ? 

Margit. 

Aye,  aye,  you  do  not  understand,  but  none  the  less — 
[They  go  up  again,  talking  to  each  other.    Gudmund 
and  Knut  come  down  on  the  other  side. 


ACT  II]        THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  259 

GUDMUND. 

Well,  if  so  it  be — if  this  wild  life  no  longer  contents 
you — then  I  will  give  you  the  best  counsel  that  ever  friend 
gave  to  friend:    take  to  wife  an  honourable  maiden. 

Knut. 

Say  you  so?  And  if  I  now  told  you  that  'tis  even 
that  I  have  in  mind  ? 

GuDMUND. 

Good  luck  and  happiness  to  you  then,  Knut  Gesling! 
And  now  you  must  know  that  I  too — 

Knut. 
You  ?     Are  you,  too,  so  purposed  .? 

GuDMUND. 

Aye,  truly.  But  the  King's  wrath — I  am  a  banished 
man — 

Knut. 

Nay,  to  that  you  need  give  but  little  thought.  As  yet 
there  is  no  one  here,  save  Dame  Margit,  that  knows 
aught  of  the  matter;  and  so  long  as  I  am  your  friend, 
you  have  one  in  whom  you  can  trust  securely.  Now  I 
must  tell  you — 

[He  proceeds  in  a  whisper  as  they  go  up  again. 

SiGNE. 

{As  she  and  Margit  again  advance.]  But  tell  me  then, 
Margit — ! 

Margit. 

More  I  dare  not  tell  you. 


260  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG         [act  ii 

SiGNE. 

Then  will  I  be  more  open-hearted  than  you.  But 
first  answer  me  one  question.  [Bashfully,  with  hesita- 
tion.^ Is  there — is  there  no  one  who  has  told  you  any- 
thing concerning  me  ? 

Margit. 

Concerning  you  ?     Nay,  what  should  that  be  ? 

SiGNE. 

\As  before,  looking  downwards.]  You  said  to  me  this 
morning:    if  a  wooer  came  riding  hither — ? 

Margit. 

That  is  true,  [To  herself]  Knut  GesHng — has  he 
already —  ?     [Eagerly,  to  Signe.]     Well  ?     What  then  ? 

SiGNE. 

[Softly,  but  with  exidtation.]  The  wooer  has  come! 
He  has  come,  Margit!  I  knew  not  then  whom  you 
meant;  but  now — ! 

Margit. 

And  what  have  you  answered  him  ? 

Signe. 

Oh,  how  should  I  know  ?  [Flinging  her  arms  round 
Jier  sister's  neck.]  But  the  world  seems  to  me  so  rich 
and  beautiful  since  the  moment  when  he  told  me  that 
he  held  me  dear. 

Margit. 

Why,  Signe,  Signe,  I  cannot  understand  that  you  should 
so  quickly — !     You  scarce  knew  him  before  to-day. 


ACT  II]        THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  ^61 

SiGNE. 

Oh,  'tis  but  little  I  yet  know  of  love;   but  this  I  know 
that  what  the  song  says  is  true: 

Full  swiftly  'tis  sown;   ere  a  moment  speeds  by. 
Deep,  deep  in  the  heart  love  is  rooted  for  aye — 

Margit. 

So  be  it;  and  since  so  it  is,  I  need  no  longer  hold 
aught  concealed  from  you.     Ah — 

[She  stops  suddenly,  as  she  sees  Knut  and  Gudmund 
approaching. 

Knut. 

[In  a  tone  of  satisfaction.]     Ha,  this  is  as  I  would  have 
it,  Gudmund.     Here  is  my  hand! 

Margit. 
[To  herself]     What  is  this.? 

Gudmund. 
[To  Knut.J     And  here  is  mine!      [They  shake  hands. 

Knut. 

But  now  we  must  each  of  us  name  who  it  is — 

Gudmund. 

Good.     Here  at  Solhoug,  among  so  many  fair  women, 
I  have  found  her  whom — 

Knut. 

I  too.     And  I  will  boar  her  home  this  very  night,  if  it 
be  needful. 


262  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG         [act  ii 

Margit. 

[Who    has    approached    unobserved.]     All    saints    in 
heaven ! 

GUDMUND. 

[Nods  to  Knut.]     The  same  is  my  intent! 

SiGNE. 

[WIw  has  also  been  listening.']     Gudmund ! 

GuDMUND    AND    KnUT. 

[Whispering  to  each  other,  as  they  both  point  at  Signe.] 
There  she  is! 

Gudmund. 
[Starting.]     Aye,  mine. 

Knut. 

[Likewise.]     No,  mine! 

Margit. 
[Softly,  half  bewildered.]     Signe! 

Gudmund. 
[As  before,  to  Knut.]     What  mean  you  by  that  ? 

Knut. 
I  mean  that  'tis  Signe  whom  I — 

Gudmund. 
Sif^ne!     Signe  is  my  betrothed  in  the  sight  of  God. 


ACT  II]        THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  263 

Margit. 
[With  a  cry.]     It  was  she!     No — no! 

GUDMUND. 

[To  himself ,  as  lie  catcJies  sight  of  Jier.]  Margit!  She 
has  heard  everything. 

Knut. 

Ho,  ho !  So  this  is  how  it  stands  ?  Nay,  Dame  Mar- 
git, 'tis  needless  to  put  on  such  an  air  of  wonder;  now  I 
understand  everything. 

Margit. 

[To  SiGXE.]  But  not  a  moment  ago  you  said — ? 
[Suddenly  grasping  the  situation.]  'Twas  Gudmund  you 
meant ! 

SiGNE. 

[Asto7iished.]  Yes,  did  you  not  know  it!  But  what 
ails  you,  Margit  ? 

Margit. 

[In  an  almost  toneless  voice.]     Nay,  nothing,  nothing. 

Kntjt. 

[To  Margit.]  And  this  morning,  when  you  made  me 
give  my  word  that  I  would  stir  no  strife  here  to-night — 
you  already  knew  that  Gudmund  Alfson  was  coming. 
Ha,  ha,  think  not  that  you  can  hoodwink  Knut  Gesling! 
Signe  has  become  dear  to  me.  Even  this  morning  '  was 
but  my  hasty  vow  that  drove  me  to  seek  her  hand;  but 
now — 


264  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG        [act  ii 

SiGNE. 

[  To  Margit.]  He  ?  Was  this  the  wooer  that  was 
in  your  mind  ? 

Margit. 
Hush,  hush! 

Knut. 

[Firmly  and  harshly.^  Dame  Margit — you  are  her 
elder  sister;    you  shall  give  me  an  answer. 

Margit. 

[Battling  ivith  herself.]  Signe  has  already  made  her 
choice; — I  have  naught  to  answer. 

Knut. 

Good;  then  I  have  nothing  more  to  do  at  Solhoug. 
But  after  midnight — mark  you  this — the  day  is  at  an 
end;  then  you  may  chance  to  see  me  again,  and  then 
Fortune  must  decide  whether  it  be  Gudmund  or  I  that 
shall  bear  Signe  away  from  this  house. 

Gudmund. 
Aye,  try  if  you  dare;   it  shall  cost  you  a  bloody  sconce. 

Signe. 
[In  terror.]     Gudmund!     By  all  the  saints — I 

Knut. 

Gently,  gently,  Gudmund  Alfson!  Ere  sunrise  you 
shall  be  in  my  power.  And  she — your  lady-love — 
[Goes  up  to  tJw  door,  beckons  and  calls  in  a  low  voice.] 


ACT  II]         THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  2G5 

Erik!  Erik!  come  hither!  we  must  away  to  our  kins- 
folk. [Threatenmgly,  while  Erik  shows  himself  in  the 
doorway^     Woe  upon  you  all  when  I  come  again! 

[He  and  Erik  go  off  to  the  left  at  the  back. 

SiGNE, 

[Softly  to  GuDMUND.]  Oh,  tell  me,  what  does  all  this 
mean  ? 

GuDMUND. 

[Whispering.]  We  must  both  leave  Solhoug  this  very 
night. 

SiGNE, 

God  shield  me — you  would — ! 

GUDMUND. 

Say  naught  of  it!  No  word  to  any  one,  not  even  to 
your  sister. 

Margit. 

[To  herself]  She — it  is  she!  She  of  whom  he  had 
scarce  thought  before  to-night.  Had  I  been  free,  I 
know  well  whom  he  had  chosen. — Aye,  free! 

[Bengt  and  Guests,  both  Men  and  Women,  enter 
from  the  house. 

Young  Men  and  Maidens. 

Out  here,  out  here  be  the  feast  arrayed, 
Wliile  the  birds  are  asleep  in  the  greenwood  shade. 
How  sweet  to  sport  in  the  flowery  glade 
'Neath  the  birches. 


2Q6  THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG        [act  ii 

Out  here,  out  here,  shall  be  mirth  and  jest. 
No  sigh  on  the  lips  and  no  care  in  the  breast. 
When  the  fiddle  is  tuned  at  the  dancers'  'hest, 
'Neath  the  birches. 

Bengt. 

That  is  well,  that  is  well!  So  I  fain  would  see  it!  I 
am  merry,  and  my  wife  likewise;  and  therefore  I  pray 
ye  all  to  be  merrry  along  with  us. 

One  of  the  Guests. 
Aye,  now  let  us  have  a  stave-match.^ 

Many. 
[Shout.]     Yes,  yes,  a  stave-match! 

Another  Guest. 

Nay,  let  that  be;  it  leads  but  to  strife  at  the  feast. 
[Loweriiig  his  voice.]  Bear  in  mind  that  Knut  Gesling 
is  with  us  to-night. 

Several. 

[Whispering  among  themselves.]  Aye,  aye,  that  is 
true.  Remember  the  last  time,  how  he — .  Best  be- 
ware. 

An  Old  Man. 

But  you.  Dame  Margit — I  know  your  kin  had  ever 
wealth  of  tales  in  store;  and  you  yourself,  even  as  a 
child,  knew  many  a  fair  legend. 

'  A  contest  in  impromptu  verse-making. 


ACT  II]        THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  267 

Margit, 

Alas!  I  have  forgot  them  all.  But  ask  Gudmund 
x\lfson,  my  kinsman;  he  knows  a  tale  that  is  merry 
enough. 

Gudmund. 

[In  a  low  voice,  imploringly.]     Margit! 

Margit. 

Why,  what  a  pitiful  countenance  you  put  on!  Be 
merry,  Gudmund!  Be  merry!  Aye,  aye,  it  comes  easy 
to  you,  well  I  wot.  [Laughing,  to  the  Guests.]  He 
has  seen  the  huldra  to-night.  She  would  fain  have 
tempted  him;  but  Gudmund  is  a  faithful  swain.  [Turns 
again  to  Gudmund.]  Aye,  but  the  tale  is  not  finished 
yet.  When  you  bear  away  your  lady-love,  over  hill  and 
through  forest,  be  sure  you  turn  not  round;  be  sure  you 
never  look  back — the  huldra  sits  laughing  behind  every 
bush;  and  when  all  is  done —  [In  a  low  voice,  coming 
close  up  to  him]  — you  will  go  no  further  than  she  will 
let  you.     [Slie  crosses  to  the  rigid.] 

SiGNE. 

Oh,  God!     Oh,  God! 

Bengt. 

[Going  around  among  th-e  Guests  in  high  contentment^ 
Ha,  ha,  ha!  Dame  Margit  knows  how  to  set  the  mirth 
afoot!  When  she  takes  it  in  hand,  she  does  it  much 
better  than  I. 

Gudmund. 

[To  himself.]  She  threatens!  I  must  tear  the  last 
hope  out  of  her  breast;    else  will  peace  never  come  to 


268  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG        [act  ii 

her  mind.     [Turns  to  the  Guests.]     I  mind  me  of  a  little 
song.      If  it  please  you  to  hear  it — 

Several  of  the  Guests. 

Thanks,  thanks,  Gudmund  Alfson! 

[  They  close  around  him,  some  sitting,  others  standing. 
Margit  lea?is  against  a  tree  in  front  on  the  right. 
SiGNE  stands  on  the  left,  near  the  house. 

Gudmund. 
[Sings.] 

I  rode  into  the  wildwood, 

I  sailed  across  the  sea, 
But  'twas  at  home  I  wooed  and  won 

A  maiden  fair  and  free. 

It  was  the  Queen  of  Elfland, 
She  waxed  full  wroth  and  grim: 

Never,  she  swore,  shall  that  maiden  fair 
Ride  to  the  church  with  him. 

Hear  me,  thou  Queen  of  Elfland. 

Vain,  vain  are  threat  and  spell; 
For  naught  can  sunder  two  true  hearts 

That  love  each  other  well ! 

An  Old  Man. 

That  is  a  right  fair  song.  See  how  the  young  swains 
cast  their  glances  thitherward!  [Pointing  toivards  the 
Girls.]     Aye,  aye,  doubtless  each  has  his  own. 

Bengt. 

[MaJcing  eyes  at  Margit.]  Yes,  I  have  mine,  that  is 
sure  enough.     Ha,  ha,  hu! 


ACT  II]        THE   FEAST  AT   SOLHOUG  269 

Margit. 

[  To  herself,  quivering.]  To  have  to  suffer  all  this  shame 
and  scorn!     No,  no;   now  to  essay  the  last  remedy ! 

Bengt. 
*     What  ails  you  ?     Meseems  you  look  so  pale. 

Margit. 

'Twill  soon  pass  oyer.  [Turyis  to  the  Gvest^.]  Did  I 
say  e'en  now  that  I  had  forgotten  all  my  tales  ?  I  be- 
think me  now  that  I  remember  one. 

Bengt. 
Good,  good,  my  wife!     Come,  let  us  hear  it. 

Young  Girls. 
[Urgently.]     Yes,  tell  it  us,  tell  it  us,  Dame  Margit! 

Margit. 

I  almost  fear  that  'twill  little  please  you;  but  that  must 
be  as  it  may. 

GUDMUND. 

[7*0  himself.]  Saints  in  heayen,  surely  she  would 
not — ! 

Margit. 

It  was  a  fair  and  noble  maid. 

She  dwelt  in  her  father's  hall; 

Both  linen  and  silk  did  she  broider  and  braid. 

Yet  found  in  it  solace  small. 

For  she  sat  there  alone  in  cheerless  state. 

Empty  were  hall  and  bower; 


270  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG        [act  ii 

In  the  pride  of  her  heart,  she  was  fain  to  mate 

With  a  chieftain  of  pelf  and  power. 

But  now  'twas  the  Hill-King,  he  rode  from  the  north, 

With  his  henchmen  and  his  gold; 

On  the  third  day  at  night  he  in  triumph  fared  forth. 

Bearing:   h  e  r  to  his  mountain  hold. 

Full  many  a  summer  she  dwelt  in  the  hill; 

Out  of  beakers  of  gold  she  could  drink  at  her  will. 

Oh,  fair  are  the  flowers  of  the  valley,  I  trow. 

But  only  in  dreams  can  she  gather  them  now! 

'Twas  a  youth,  right  gentle  and  bold  to  boot. 

Struck  his  harp  with  such  magic  might 

That  it  rang  to  the  mountain's  inmost  root. 

Where  she  languished  in  the  night. 

The  sound  in  her  soul  waked  a  wondrous  mood — 

Wide  open  the  mountain-gates  seemed  to  stand; 

The  peace  of  God  lay  over  the  land, 

And  she  saw  how  it  all  was  fair  and  good. 

There  had  happened  what  never  had  happened  before; 

She  had  wakened  to  life  as  his  harp-strings  thrilled; 

And  her  eyes  were  opened  to  all  the  store 

Of  treasure  wherewith  the  good  earth  is  filled. 

For  mark  this  well:   it  hath  ever  been  found 

That  those  who  in  caverns  deep  lie  bound 

Are  lightly  freed  by  the  harp's  glad  sound. 

He  saw  her  prisoned,  he  heard  her  wail — 

But  he  cast  unheeding  his  harp  aside. 

Hoisted  straightway  his  silken  sail. 

And  sped  away  o'er  the  waters  wide 

To  stranger  strands  with  his  new-found  bride. 

[With  ever-increasing  passion. 
So  fair  was  thy  touch  on  the  golden  strings 
That  my  breast  heaves  high  and  my  spirit  sings! 
I  must  out,  I  must  out  to  the  sweet  green  leas! 


ACT  II]        THE   FEAST  AT   SOLHOUG  271 

I  die  in  the  Hill-King's  fastnesses! 

He  mocks  at  my  woe  as  he  clasps  his  bride 

And  sails  away  o'er  the  waters  wide!  [Shrieks. 

With  me  all  is  over;   my  hill-prison  barred; 
Unsunned  is  the  day,  and  the  night  all  unstarred. 

[She  totters  and,  fainting,   seeks  to  support  herself 
against  the  trunk  of  a  tree. 

SiGXE. 

[Weeping,  has  rushed  up  to  Iter,  and  takes  Iter  in  her 
arms.'\     Margit!     My  sister! 

GUDMUND. 

[At  the  same  time  supporting  her.]     Help!     Help!   she 
is  dying! 

[Bengt  and  the  GvESTsfock  round  tJiem  with  cries 
of  alarm. 


ACT  THIRD 

The  hall  at  Solhoug  as  before,  but  now  in  disorder  after 
the  feast.  It  is  night  still,  but  ivith  a  glimmer  of  ap- 
proaching dawn  in  the  room  and  over  the  landscape 
loithout. 

Bengt  stands  outside  in  the  passage-way,  with  a  beaker  of 
ale  in  his  hand.  A  party  of  Guests  are  in  the  act 
of  leaving  the  house.  In  the  room  a  Maid-Ser- 
vant is  restoring  order. 

Bengt. 

[Calls  to  the  departing  Guests.]  God  speed  you, 
then,  and  bring  you  back  ere  long  to  Solhoug.  Me- 
thinks  you,  like  the  rest,  might  have  stayed  and  slept 
till  morning.  Well,  well!  Yet  hold — I'll  e'en  go  with 
you  to  the  gate.     I  must  drink  your  healths  once  more. 

[He  goes  out. 
Guests. 

[Sing  in  the  distance.] 

Farewell,  and  God's  blessing  on  one  and  all 

Beneath  this  roof  abiding! 
The  road  must  be  faced.     To  the  fiddler  we  call: 
Tune  up!     Our  cares  deriding. 
With  dance  and  with  song 
We'll  shorten  the  way  so  weary  and  long. 
Right  merrily  off  we  go. 

[The  song  dies  away  in  the  distance. 
[Margit  enters  the  hall  by  the  door  on  the  right. 
272 


ACT  III]       THE   FEAST  AT   SOLHOUG  273 

Maid. 
God  save  us,  my  lady,  have  you  left  your  bed  ? 

Margit. 

I  am  well.  Go  you  and  sleep.  Stay — tell  me,  are 
the  guests  all  gone ,'' 

Maid. 

No,  not  all;  some  wait  till  later  in  the  day;  ere  now 
they  are  sleeping  sound. 

Margit. 
And  Gudmund  Alfson — ? 

Maid. 

He,  too,  is  doubtless  asleep.  [Points  to  the  right.] 
'Tis  some  time  since  he  went  to  his  chamber — yonder, 
across  the  passage. 

Margit. 

Good;  you  may  go.         [The  Maid  goes  out  to  the  left. 
[Margit  walks  slowly  across  the  hall,  seats  herself 
by  the  table  on  the  right,  arid  gazes  out  at  the  open 
window. 

Margit. 

To-morrow,  then,  Gudmund  will  ride  away 
Out  into  the  world  so  great  and  wide. 
Alone  with  my  husband  here  I  must  stay; 
And  well  do  I  know  what  will  then  betide. 
Like  the  broken  branch  and  the  trampled  flower 
I  shall  suffer  and  fade  from  hour  to  hour. 

[Short  pause;   she  leans  back  in  her  chair. 


274  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG       [act  hi 

I  once  heard  a  tale  of  a  child  blind  from  birth. 

Whose  childhood  was  full  of  joy  and  mirth; 

For  the  mother,  with  spells  of  magic  might. 

Wove  for  the  dark  eyes  a  world  of  light. 

And  the  child  looked  forth  with  wonder  and  glee 

Upon  valley  and  hill,  upon  land  and  sea. 

Then  suddenly  the  witchcraft  failed — 

The  child  once  more  was  in  darkness  pent; 

Good-bye  to  games  and  merriment; 

With  longing  vain  the  red  cheeks  paled. 

And  its  wail  of  woe,  as  it  pined  away. 

Was  ceaseless,  and  sadder  than  words  can  say. — 

Oh!  like  that  child's  my  eyes  were  sealed. 

To  the  light  and  the  life  of  summer  blind — 

[She  springs  up. 
But  n  o  w — !     And  I  in  this  cage  confined! 
No,  now  is  the  worth  of  my  youth  revealed ! 
Three  years  of  life  I  on  him  have  spent — 
My  husband — but  were  I  longer  content 
This  hapless,  hopeless  weird  to  dree. 
Meek  as  a  dove  I  needs  must  be. 
I  am  wearied  to  death  of  petty  brawls; 
The  stirring  life  of  the  great  world  calls. 
I  will  follow  Gudmund  with  shield  and  bow, 
I  will  share  his  joys,  I  will  soothe  his  woe, 
W^atch  o'er  him  both  by  night  and  day. 
All  that  behold  shall  envy  the  life 
Of  the  valiant  knight  and  Margit  his  wife. — 
His  wife!  [Wrings  lier  hands. 

Oh  God,  what  is  this  I  say! 
Forgive  me,  forgive  me,  and  oh!  let  me  feel 
The  peace  that  hath  power  both  to  soothe  and  to  heal. 

[Walks  back  and  fur  ward,  brooding  silently. 
Signe,  my  sister —  ?     How  hateful  'twere 


ACT  III]       THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  275 

To  steal  her  glad  young  life  from  her ! 

But  who  can  tell  ?     In  very  sooth 

She  may  love  him  but  with  the  light  love  of  youth. 

[Again  silence;    she  takes  out  the  little  phial,  looks 
long  at  it  and  says  under  her  breath: 
This  phial — were  I  its  powers  to  try — 
My  husband  would  sleep  for  ever  and  aye ! 

\Horror-struck. 
No,  no!     To  the  river's  depths  with  it  straight! 

\In  the  act  of  throwing  it  out  of  the  window,  stops. 
And  yet  I  could — 'tis  not  yet  too  late. — 

[With  an  expression  of  mingled  horror  and  rapture, 
whispers. 
With  what  a  magic  resistless  might 
Sin  masters  us  in  our  own  despite! 
Doubly  alluring  methinks  is  the  goal 
I  must  reach  through  blood,  with  the  wreck  of  my  soul. 
[Bengt,  with  the  empty  beaker  in  his  hand,  comes  in 
from  the  passage-way;  his  face  is  red;  he  staggers 
slightly. 

Bengt. 

[Flinging  the  beaker  upon  the  table  on  the  left.]  My 
faith,  this  has  been  a  feast  that  will  be  the  talk  of  the 
country.  [Sees  Margit.]  Eh,  are  you  there  ?  You  are 
well  again.     Good,  good. 

Margit. 

[Who  in  the  meantime  has  concealed  the  phial.]  Is  the 
door  barred  ? 

Bengt. 

[Seating  himself  at  the  table  on  the  left.]  I  have  seen  to 
everything.     I  went  with  the  last  guests  as  far  as  the 


276  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG       [act  hi 

gates.     But  what  became  of  Knut  Gesling  to-night? — 
Give  me  mead,  Margit!     I  am  thirsty.     Fill  this  cup. 
[Margit  fetches  a  flagon  of  -mead  from,  a  cupboard. 

and  fills  the  goblet  which  is  on  the  table  in  front  of 

him. 

Margit. 

[Crossing  to  the  right  with  the  flagon.]  You  asked 
about  Knut  Gesling. 

Bengt. 

That  I  did.  The  boaster,  the  braggart!  I  have  not 
forgot  his  threats  of  yester-morning. 

Margit. 
He  used  worse  words  when  he  left  to-night. 

Bengt. 
He  did  ?     So  much  the  better.     I  will  strike  him  dead. 

Margit. 
[Smiling  contemptuously.]     H'm — 

Bengt. 

I  will  kill  him,  I  say!  I  fear  not  to  face  ten  such 
fellows  as  he.  In  the  store-house  hangs  my  grandfather's 
axe;  its  shaft  is  inlaid  with  silver;  with  that  axe  in  my 
hands,  I  tell  you — !  [Thumps  the  table  and  drinks.] 
To-morrow  I  shall  arm  myself,  go  forth  with  all  my  men, 
and  slay  Knut  Gesling.  [Empties  the  beaker. 

Margit. 

[7^0  herself.]     Oh,  to  have  to  live  with  him! 

[Is  in  the  act  of  leaving  the  room. 


ACT  III]       THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  277 

Bengt. 

Margit,  come  here!  Fill  my  cup  again.  [She  ap- 
proaches; he  tries  to  draw  her  doicn  on  to  his  knee.]  Ha, 
ha,  ha !     You  are  right  fair,  Margit !     I  love  you  well ! 

Margit. 

{Freeing  herself.']     Let  me  go! 

\Crosses,  with  the  goblet  in  her  hand,  to  tJie  left. 

Bengt. 

You  are  not  in  the  humour  to-night.  Ha,  ha,  ha! 
That  means  no  great  matter,  I  know. 

Margit. 

[Softly,  as  she  fills  the  goblet.]  Oh,  that  this  might  be 
the  last  beaker  I  should  fill  for  vou. 

[She  leaves  tJie  goblet  on  the  table  and  is  making  Jier 
way  out  to  tJie  left. 

Bengt 

Hark  to  me,  Margit.  For  one  thing  you  may  thank 
Heaven,  and  that  is,  that  I  made  you  my  wife  before 
Gudmund  Alfson  came  back. 

Margit. 
[Stops  at  the  door.]     Why  so  ? 

Bengt. 

Why,  say  you  ?  Am  I  not  ten  times  the  richer  man  ? 
And  certain  I  am  that  he  would  have  sought  you  for 
his  wife,  had  3'ou  not  been  the  mistress  of  Solhouij. 


278  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG       [act  hi 

Margit. 

[Drawing  nearer  and  glancing  at  the  goblet.]  Say  you 
so  ? 

Bengt. 

I  could  take  my  oath  upon  it.  Bengt  Gauteson  has 
two  sharp  eyes  in  his  head.     But  he  may  still  have  Signe. 

Margit. 
And  you  think  he  will — ? 

Bengt. 

Take  her?  Ay,  since  he  cannot  have  you.  But  had 
you  been  free, — then —  Ha,  ha,  ha!  Gudmund  is  like 
the  rest.  He  envies  me  my  wife.  That  is  why  I  set 
such  store  by  you,  Margit.  Here  with  the  goblet  again. 
And  let  it  be  full  to  the  brim! 

Margit. 

[Goes  unwillingly  across  to  the  right.]  You  shall  have 
it  straightway. 

Bengt. 

Knut  Gesling  is  a  suitor  for  Signe,  too,  but  him  I  am 
resolved  to  slay.  Gudmund  is  an  honourable  man;  he 
shall  have  her.  Think,  Margit,  what  good  days  we 
shall  have  with  them  for  neighbours.  We  will  go  a-visit- 
ing  each  other,  and  then  will  we  sit  the  live-long  day, 
each  with  his  wife  on  his  knee,  drinking  and  talking  of 
this  and  of  that. 

Margit. 

[Whose  mental  struggle  is  visibly  becoming  more  severe, 
involuntarily  takes  out  the  phial  as  she  says:]  No  doubt, 
no  doubt! 


ACT  III]       THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  279 

Bengt. 

Ha,  ha,  ha!  it  may  be  that  at  first  Gudmund  will 
look  askance  at  me  when  I  take  you  in  my  arms;  but 
that,  I  doubt  not,  he  will  soon  get  over. 

Margit. 

This  is  more  than  woman  can  bear!  [Pours  the  con- 
tents of  the  phial  into  the  goblet,  goes  to  the  window  and 
throws  out  the  phial,  then  says,  without  looking  at  him.] 
Your  beaker  is  full. 

Bengt. 

Then  bring  it  hither! 

Margit. 

[Battling  in  an  agony  of  indecision,  at  last  says:]  I 
pray  you  drink  no  more  to-night! 

Bengt. 

[Leans  back  in  his  chair  and  laughs.]  Oho!  You  are 
impatient  for  my  coming?  Get  you  in;  I  will  follow 
you  soon. 

Margit. 

[Suddenly  decided.]  Your  beaker  is  full.  [Points.] 
There  it  is.  [She  goes  quickly  out  to  the  left. 

Bengt. 

[Rising.]  I  like  her  well.  It  repents  me  not  a  whit 
that  I  took  her  to  wife,  though  of  heritage  she  owned 
no  more  than  yonder  goblet  and  the  brooches  of  her 
wedding  gown. 

[He  goes  to  the  table  at  the  window  and  takes  the  goblet. 
[A  House-Carl  enters  hurriedly  and  loith  scared  looks, 
from  the  back. 


280  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG       [act  ni 

House-Carl. 

[Calls.]  Sir  Bengt,  Sir  Bengt!  haste  forth  with  all  the 
speed  you  can!  Knut  Gesling  with  an  armed  train  is 
drawing  near  the  house. 

Bengt. 

[Putting  down  the  goblet.]  Knut  Gesling?  Who 
brings  the  tidings? 

House-Carl. 

Some  of  your  guests  espied  him  on  the  road  beneath, 
and  hastened  back  to  warn  you. 

Bengt. 

E'en  so.     Then  will  I—!     Fetch  me  my  grandfather's 

battle-axe ! 

[He  and  the  House-Carl  go  out  at  the  hack. 

[Soon  after,  Gudmund  and  Signe  enter  quietly  and 
cautiously  by  the  door  on  the  right. 

Signe. 
[In  muffled  tones.] 
It  must,  then,  be  so! 

Gudmund. 
[Also  softly.] 

Necessity's  might 
Constrains  us. 

Signe. 

Oh!    thus  under  cover  of  night 
To  steal  from  the  valley  where  I  was  born! 

[Dries  her  eyes. 


ACT  III]       THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  281 

Yet  shalt  thou  hear  no  plaint  forlorn. 
'Tis  for  thy  sake  my  home  I  flee; 
Wert  thou  not  outlawed,  Gudmund  dear, 
I'd  stay  with  my  sister. 

Gudmund. 

Only  to  be 
Ta'en  by  Knut  Gesling,  with  bow  and  spear. 
Swung  on  the  croup  of  his  battle-horse, 
And  made  his  wife  by  force. 

SiGNE. 

Quick,  let  us  flee.     But  whither  go  ? 

Gudmund. 

Down  by  the  fiord  a  friend  I  know; 

He'll  find  us  a  ship.     O'er  the  salt  sea  foam 

We'll  sail  away  south  to  Denmark's  bowers. 

There  waits  you  there  a  happy  home; 

Right  joyously  will  fleet  the  hours; 

The  fairest  of  flowers  they  bloom  in  the  shade 

Of  the  beech-tree  glade. 

SlGNIS. 

[Bursts  into  tears.] 

Farewell,  my  poor  sister!     Like  mother  tender 
Thou  hast  guarded  the  ways  my  feet  have  trod. 
Hast  guided  my  footsteps,  aye  praying  to  God, 
The  Almighty,  to  be  my  defender, — 
Gudmund — here  is  a  goblet  filled  with  mead; 
Let  us  drink  to  her;  let  us  wish  that  ere  long 
Her  soul  may  again  be  calm  and  strong, 
And  that  God  may  be  good  to  her  need. 

[She  takes  tlie  goblet  into  her  hands. 


282  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG       [act  hi 

GUDMUND. 

Aye,  let  us  drain  it,  naming  her  name!  [Starts. 

Stop!  [Takes  the  goblet  from  her. 

For  meseems  it  is  the  same — 

SiGNE. 

'Tis  Margit's  beaker. 

GuDMUND. 

[Examining  it  carefully.] 

By  Heaven,  'tis  so! 
I  mind  me  still  of  the  red  wine's  glow 
As  she  drank  from  it  on  the  day  we  parted 
To  our  meeting  again  in  health  and  glad-hearted. 
To  herself  that  draught  betided  woe. 
No,  Signe,  ne'er  drink  wine  or  mead 
From  that  goblet.     [Pours  its  contents  out  at  the  window. 

We  must  away  with  all  speed. 
[Tumult  and  calls  without,  at  the  back. 

Signe. 
List,  Gudmund!     Voices  and  trampling  feet! 

GUDMUND. 

Knut  Gesling's  voice! 

Signe, 

O  save  us.  Lord! 

Gudmund. 

[Places  himself  in  front  of  her.] 

Nay,  nay,  fear  nothing,  Signe  sweet — 
I  am  here,  and  my  good  sword. 

[Margit  comes  in  in  haste  from  the  left. 


ACT  III]       THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  283 

Margit. 

[Listening   to   the   noise.]     What  means  this  ?     Is  my 
husband —  ? 


GUDMUND    AND    SiGNE. 


Margit! 


Margit. 

[Catches  sight  of  them.]     Gudmund!     And  Signe!   Are 
you  here  ? 

Signe. 

[Going  towards  her.]     Margit — dear  sister! 

Margit. 

[Appalled,  having  seen  the  goblet  which  Gudmund  still 
holds  in  his  haiid.]    The  goblet !    Who  has  drunk  from  it  ? 

Gudmund. 
[Confused.]     Drunk —  ?     I  and  Signe — we  meant — 

Margit. 

[Screams.]     O  God,  have  mercy!     Help!    Help!    They 
will  die! 

Gudmund. 
[Setting  doivn  the  gohlet.]     Margit — ! 

Signe. 

What  ails  you,  sister  ? 

Margit. 

[Towards  the  back.]     Help,  help !     Will  no  one  help  ? 
[A   House-Carl  rushes  in  from  the  passage-way. 


284  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG       [act  hi 

House-Carl. 

[Calls  in  a  terrified  voice.]  Lady  Margit!  Your  hus- 
band— ! 

Margit. 

He — has  he,  too,  drunk — ! 

GUDMUND. 

[To  himself.]     Ah!  now  I  understand — 

House-Carl. 
Knut  Gesling  has  slain  him. 

SiGNE. 

Slain! 

GuDMUND. 

[Drawing  his  sword.]  Not  yet,  I  hope.  [Whispers  to 
Margit.]  Fear  not.  No  one  has  drunk  from  your 
goblet. 

Margit. 

Then  thanks  be  to  God,  who  has  saved  us  all! 

[She  sinks  down  on  a  chair  to  the  left.     Gudmund 
hastens  toicards  tlie  door  at  the  hack. 

Another  House-Carl. 

[Enters,  stoppirig  him.]  You  come  too  late.  Sir 
Bengt  is  dead. 

Gudmund. 

Too  late,  then,  too  late. 


ACT  III]       THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  285 

House-Carl. 

The  guests  and  your  men  have  prevailed  against  the 
murderous  crew.  Knut  Gesling  and  his  men  are  pris- 
oners.    Here  they  come. 

[Gudmund's  v^en,  and  a  number  of  Guests  and 
House-Carls,  lead  in  Knut  Gesling,  Erik  of 
Hegge,  and  several  o/'Knut's  men,  hound. 

Knut. 

\Who  is  pale,  says  in  a  low  voice.]  Man-slayer,  Gud- 
mund.     What  say  you  to  that? 

GUDMUND. 

Knut,  Knut,  what  have  you  done? 

Erik. 
'Twas  a  mischance,  of  that  I  can  take  my  oath. 

Knut. 

He  ran  at  me  swinging  his  axe;  I  meant  but  to  defend 
myself,  and  struck  the  death-blow  unawares. 

Erik. 
Many  here  saw  all  that  befell. 

Knut. 

Lady  Margit,  crave  what  fine  you  will.  I  am  ready 
to  pay  it. 

Margit. 

I  crave  naught.  God  will  judge  us  all.  Yet  stay — one 
thing  I  require.     Forgo  your  evil  design  upon  my  sister. 


286  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG       [act  hi 

Knut. 

Never  again  shall  I  essay  to  redeem  my  baleful  pledge. 
From  this  day  onward  I  am  a  better  man.  Yet  would  I 
fain  escape  dishonourable  punishment  for  my  deed.  [To 
GuDMUND.]  Should  you  be  restored  to  favour  and  place 
again,  say  a  good  word  for  me  to  the  King! 

GuDMUND. 

I  ?     Ere  the  sun  sets,  I  must  have  left  the  country. 
[Astonishment  amongst  the  Guests.     Erik,  in  whis- 
pers, explains  the  situation. 

Margit. 
[To  GuDMUND.]     You  go  ?     And  Signe  with  you  ? 

SiGNE. 

[Beseechingly.^     Margit! 

Margit. 
Good  fortune  follow  you  both! 

Signe. 
[Flinging  her  arms  round  Margit's  neck.]    Dear  sister! 

GuDMUND. 

Margit,  I  thank  you.  And  now  farewell.  [Listening.] 
Hush!     I  hear  the  tramp  of  hoofs  in  the  court-yard. 

Signe. 

[Apprehensively.]     Strangers  have  arrived. 

[A  House-Carl  appears  in  the  doorway  at  the  back. 


ACT  III]       THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  287 

House-Carl. 

The  King's  men  are  without.     They  seek  Gudmund 
Alfson. 

SiGNE. 

Oh  God! 

Margit. 
[In  great  alarm.]     The  King's  men! 

Gudmund. 

All  is  at  an  end,  then.     Oh  Signe,  to  lose  you  now — 
could  there  be  a  harder  fate  ? 

Knut. 

Nay,  Gudmund;    sell  your  life  dearly,  man!     Unbind 
us;  we  are  ready  to  fight  for  you,  one  and  all. 

Erik. 

[Looks  out.]     'Twould  be  in  vain;    they  are  too  many 
for  us. 

Signe. 

Here  they  come.     Oh  Gudmund,  Gudmund! 

[The  King's  Messenger  enters  from  the  back,  with 
his  escort. 

Messenger. 

In  the  King's  name  I  seek  you,  Gudmund  Alfson,  and 
bring  you  his  behests. 

Gudmund. 

Be  it  so.     Yet  am  I  guiltless;    I  swear  it  by  all  that 
is  holy! 


288  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG       [act  hi 

Messenger. 
We  know  it. 

GUDMUND. 

What  say  you  ?  [Agitation  amongst  those  present. 

Messenger. 

I  am  ordered  to  bid  you  as  a  guest  to  the  King's  house. 
His  friendship  is  yours  as  it  was  before,  and  along  with 
it  he  bestows  on  you  rich  fiefs. 


Signe! 
Gudmund! 
But  tell  me — ? 


Gudmund. 

Signe. 

Gudmund 

Messenger. 


Your  enemy,  the  Chancellor  Audun  Hugleikson,  has 
fallen. 

Gudmund. 
The  Chancellor! 

Guests. 
[To  each  other,  in  a  half -whisper.]     Fallen! 

Messenger. 

Three  days  ago  he  was  beheaded  at  Bergen.  [Low- 
ering his  voice.]  His  offence  was  against  Norway's 
Queen. 


ACT  III]       THE    FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  289 

Margit. 

[Placing  herself  between  Gudmund  and  SigneJ 
Thus  punishment  treads  on  the  heels  of  crime! 
Protecting  angels,  loving  and  bright, 
Have  looked  down  in  mercv  on  me  to-nieht. 
And  come  to  my  rescue  while  vet  it  was  time. 
Now  know  I  that  life's  most  precious  treasure 
Is  nor  worldly  wealth  nor  earthly  pleasure, 
I  have  felt  the  remorse,  the  terror  I  know. 
Of  those  who  wantonly  peril  their  soul. 
To  St.  Sunniva's  cloister  forthwith  I  go. — 

[Before  Gudmund  and  Signe  can  speak. 
Nay:  think  not  to  move  me  or  control, 

[Places  Signe's  hand  in  Gudmund's. 
Take  her  then,  Gudmund,  and  make  her  your  bride. 
Your  union  is  holy;    God's  on  your  side. 

[Waving  farewell,  she  goes  towards  the  doorway  on 
the  left.  Gudmund  aTid  Signe  follow  her,  she 
stops  tJiem  with  a  motion  of  her  hand,  goes  out, 
a7id  shuts  the  door  behind  her.  At  this  moment 
the  sun  rises  and  sheds  its  light  into  the  hull. 

Gudmund. 

Signe — my  wife !     See,  the  morning  glow ! 
'Tis  the  morning  of  our  young  love.     Rejoice! 

Signe. 

All  my  fairest  of  dreams  and  of  memories  I  owe 

To  the  strains  of  thy  harp  and  the  sound  of  thy  voice. 

My  noble  minstrel,  to  joy  or  sadness 

Tune  thou  that  harp  as  seems  thee  best; 

There  are  chords,  believe  me,  within  my  breast 

To  answer  to  thine,  or  of  woe  or  of  gladness. 


290  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG        [act  hi 

Chorus  of  Men  and  Women. 

Over  earth  keeps  watch  the  eye  of  Hght, 
Guardeth  lovingly  the  good  man's  ways, 
Sheddeth  round  him  its  consoling  rays; — 
Praise  be  to  the  Lord  in  heaven's  height! 


LOVE'S   COMEDY 


LOVE'S   COMEDY 
INTRODUCTION 

Kfrrlighedens  Komedie  was  published  at  Christiania  in 
January,  1863.  The  polite  world — so  far  as  such  a  thing 
existed  at  that  time  in  the  Northern  capital — received  it 
with  an  outburst  of  indignation  not  now  entirely  easy  to 
understand.  It  has  indeed  faults  enough.  The  char- 
acter-drawing is  often  crude,  the  action,  though  full  of 
effective  by-play,  extremely  slight,  and  the  sensational 
climax  has  little  relation  to  human  nature  as  exhibited  in 
Norway,  or  out  of  it,  at  that  or  any  other  time.  But  the 
sting  lay  in  the  unflattering  veracity  of  the  piece  as  a 
whole;  in  the  merciless  portrayal  of  the  trivialities  of  per- 
sons, or  classes,  high  in  their  own  esteem;  in  the  unex- 
ampled effrontery  of  bringing  a  clergyman  upon  the  stage. 
All  these  have  long  since  passed,  in  Scandinavia,  into  the 
category  of  the  things  which  people  take  with  their  Ibsen 
as  a  matter  of  course,  and  the  play  is  welcomed  with  de- 
light by  every  Scandinavian  audience.  But  in  1864  the 
matter  was  serious,  and  Ibsen  meant  it  to  be  so. 

For  they  were  years  of  ferment — those  six  or  seven 
which  intervened  between  his  return  to  Christiania  from 
Bergen  in  1857,  and  his  departure  for  Italy  in  1864.  He 
was  just  entering  on  his  intellectual  prime.  Ten  years  of 
chequered,  and  mostly  stern,  experience  had  only  ma- 

233 


294  LOVE'S   COMEDY 

tured  and  deepened  the  uncompromising  sincerity  which 
had  made  the  Grimstad  apprentice  an  Ishmael  in  his 
little  community;  had  only  turned  the  uncomfortable  boy, 
vrho  tried  to  "waken  Scandinavia"  to  the  bitter  need  of 
Hungary  in  1849,  into  the  man  who  was  presently  to 
waken  the  civilised  world  to  the  yet  more  appalling  verac- 
ities of  Ghosts.  The  atmosphere  of  Christiania  in  the 
fifties  was  little  calculated  to  assuage  this  temper,  and 
Ibsen's  position  brought  with  it  fresh  elements  of  prov- 
ocation. The  newly  founded  "Norwegian  Theatre,"  of 
which  he  had  accepted  the  directorship,  barely  main- 
tained itself,  in  the  very  capital  of  Norway,  against 
the  ascendancy  of  Danish  taste  and  acting,  enthroned 
then  at  the  "Christiania"  Theatre.  A  little  band  of 
'nationalists'  championed  it  valiantly  in  the  press;  but 
the  solid  phalanx  of  well-to-do  and  official  society  looked 
upon  the  nationalist  movement,  and  especially  upon  the 
nationalist  drama,  as  a  provincial  heresy;  and  the  Nor- 
wegian Theatre,  crippled  for  want  of  resources,  found 
itself  unable  to  stage  just  the  plays  which  would  most 
powerfully  have  vindicated  the  nationalist  cause.  Ibsen's 
own  Vikings  in  Helgeland,  in  particular,  rejected  as  too 
"Norwegian"  by  the  Danish  Theatre,  was  impracticable 
for  his  own.  The  finances  of  the  theatre  improved 
somewhat  under  Ibsen's  management,  but  it  finally  be- 
came bankrupt,  and  his  position  was  throughout  one  of 
discouragement  and  disillusion,  added  to  the  anxieties  of 
a  very  slender  income. 

It  is  likely  enough  that  this  state  of  things  did  not  ren- 
der the  director  of  the  Norwegian  Theatre  less  alive  to 
the  foibles  of  Christiania  society.     But  the  scathing  ex- 


INTRODUCTION  295 

posure  of  some  of  them  in  Love's  Comedy  sprang  from  a 
deeper  root.     Norse  nationalism,  in  the  patriotic  sense, 
had  absolutely  no  part  in  inspiring  or  provoking  the  play; 
Norse  patriots,  indeed,  were  to  be  among  the  loudest  in 
decrying  it.    Ibsen  himself,  always  more  "  Scandinavian  " 
than  Norwegian,  was  the  least  "Norse"  of  all  his  literary 
associates,  and,  keenly  as  he  recognised  the  inadequacy 
of  the  Danish  dramatic  tradition,  outgrew  with  extreme 
slowness  his  early  taste  for  the  classic  elegance  of  Danish 
verse.     As  a  student  he  had  listened  with  delight  to  the 
lectures  of  Welhaven,  the  most  Danish  of  Norwegian 
poets;  Heiberg  himself,  the  centre  of  Danish  literary  in- 
fluence in  Norway,  and  the  director  of  the  Christiania 
Theatre,  he  admired  as  a  poet;  and  the  summary  rejec- 
tion of  the  Vikings  by  the  autocratic  Dane  did  not  pre- 
vent   its   author   from   commemorating   him,   upon    his 
death  three  years  later,  in  a  noble  dirge.     But  even  apart 
from  Ibsen,  the  soul  of  the  nationalist  movement  in  litera- 
ture was  something  much  more  vital  than  a  mere  pitting 
of  Norwegian  against  Danish  idiosyncrasy.     It  was  an 
attempt  to  vindicate  for  Scandinavian  poetry  the  bold 
grasp  of  realities,  the  energetic  application  of  ideas  to 
life,   the   masculine    and    expressive  beauty,   which   are 
the  birthright  of  every  fresh  and  original  literature,  and 
which  the  faded    Romanticism   of   Denmark  could    no 
longer  offer.     Vinje  and  Botten-Hansen,  Ibsen's  closest 
literary  associates,  had  drawn  their  literary  sustenance 
less  from  the  "Norse"  coryphaeus  of  the  last  generation, 
Wergeland,  than  from  Heine  and  from  Hegel.     And  both 
these  influences  left  their  mark  on  Ibsen  himself.     Heine's 
brilliant  paradoxes  appealed  to  a  poet  whose  grip  upon 


296  LOVE'S   COMEDY 

reality  was  immeasurably  firmer,  but  who  habitually 
used  truth  to  startle,  not  to  persuade.  And  Hegel's  con- 
ception of  spiritual  advance  as  a  process  in  which  self  is 
slain  in  order  that  it  may  truly  live,  helped  to  define,  if 
not  to  generate,  Ibsen's  profoundly  characteristic  doctrine 
that  "nought  abideth  but  the  lost."  The  present  drama, 
saturated  with  these  influences,  is  more  deeply  tinctured 
with  them  than  any  of  its  successors.  Falk,  the  young  poet 
who  dazzles  and  outrages  the  philistine  world,  is  a  pal- 
pably Heinesque  figure;  his  lyric  speech  matches  Heine's 
own  in  brilliance  and  in  its  daring  descents  to  prose, — 
pointed  out  with  disapproval  at  the  outset  by  the  pedant 
of  Romanticism,  Miss  Jay.  And  the  conviction  which 
leads  Falk  and  Svanhild  to  the  far  from  "comic"  climax 
of  this  Comedy  of  Love,  that  only  by  renunciation  can 
Love  survive,  this  Ibsenian  philosophy  of  love,  so  strange, 
so  repelling  to  most  readers,  was  at  least  matured  under 
the  stimulus  of  Hegel.  It  was,  from  the  vantage-ground 
— or  the  dizzy  pinnacle — of  this  conception  of  love  that 
Ibsen  looked  down  upon  the  heterogeneous  phenomena 
current  in  society  under  that  name  and  upon  the  uni- 
versal assumption  that  marriage  was  its  natural  and 
(for  the  respectable)  only  imaginable  goal. 

But  at  this  point  Ibsen's  renunciatory  idealism  was 
met  by,  and  taken  over  into,  another  current  of  thought, 
perhaps  more  fundamentally  his  own,  and  with  which 
Hegel  in  any  case  had  nothing  to  do,  for  it  ran  utterly 
counter  to  him.  The  spiritual  ascetic  who  counselled 
lovers  to  save  their  love  by  losing  it,  was  doubled  with 
an  almost  fanatical  individualist,  for  whom  marriage, 
like  every  other  form  of  social  nexus,  was  full  of  snares 


Ilenrik  Ibsen  at  llie  ajre  of  thirtv 


INTRODUCTION  297 

and  pitfalls  to  the  soul,  which  only  cool  and  circumspect 
intelligence  availed  to  avoid.  Into  the  suburban  draw- 
ing-rooms, accordingly,  where  the  manufacture  of  happy 
pairs  was  so  gaily  and  assiduously  carried  on,  Ibsen  pre- 
pared to  fling  his  double  paradox  that  marriage  is  the 
death  of  Love,  and  Love  the  ruin  of  marriage.  An  amaz- 
ing, Protean  thing  this  Ibsenian  Love,  which  needs  the 
agony  of  eternal  separation  to  be  completely  itself,  and 
yet  at  the  touch  of  the  routine  of  married  life  dribbles 
away;  which  triumphs  over  death  and  absence  by  the 
power  of  spiritual  vision,  and  yet  boggles  and  blunders 
purblind  in  the  management  of  a  home! 

These  ideas  were  already  simmering  in  Ibsen's  mind 
in  1858,  a  year  after  his  arrival  at  Christiania.  For  the 
present,  however,  nothing  came  of  them;  his  own  happy 
marriage  in  the  same  year  not  improbably  casting  a  little 
unphilosophical  glamour  over  the  state  of  married  lovers.^ 
But  two  years  later  he  wrote  four  scenes  of  a  comedy  in 
prose,  Svanhild,  which  presents  nearly  all  the  motives  of 
the  corresponding  part  of  the  complete  play  (the  first  forty 
pages  of  Act  I.)  in  a  compact  and  summary  form.  Once 
more  the  work  was  put  by,  and  two  years  more  passed 
before  he  again  took  it  up.  But  then,  in  1862,  he  threw 
himself  upon  it  with  exuberant  energy,  entirely  rewrote 
the  fragment,  and  carried  it  through  with  unflagging  verve 
to  the  end.  A  French  critic  has  called  it  "a  lyric  satur- 
nalia,"  "a  debauch  of  gaiety";  and  if  it  is  sometimes 
only  his  personages  who  are  gay,  not  the  poet,  yet  none  of 

^  His  wife  however  entered  into  his  ideas;  when  the  storm  broke, 
after  the  pubhcation  of  the  play,  she  was,  he  afterwards  wrote,  the 
one  person  who  approved  it. 


298  LOVE'S   COMEDY 

his  plays  gives  us  a  more  vivid  sense  of  having  been  writ- 
ten with  sustained  deHght. 

The  secret  of  this  swift  and  effortless  execution  of  the 
purpose  he  had  so  long  dallied  with  lay  in  great  part  in 
his  having  found  a  thoroughly  congenial  form.  In  prose 
Ibsen  was  still  laborious  and  uncertain ;  the  masterly  free- 
dom he  later  achieved  in  it,  but  hardly  before  the  Pillars 
of  Society,  was  won  slowly  and  at  great  cost.  But  in 
verse  he  was  born  free;  it  was  the  native  language  of  his 
mind;  in  which  he  could  "prance  and  curvet  at  will,"  as 
he  once  said  to  the  present  writer,  like  a  rider  on  a  horse 
that  knows  him.  In  verse  all  the  exuberance  of  wit  and 
poetry  which  his  earlier  prose  thwarted,  and  his  later 
sternly  refused,  had  unstinted  play.  It  was  by  their  ac- 
complished verse-craft,  as  has  been  said,  that  the  Danish 
poets  retained  his  admiration,  even  when,  in  Peer  Gijnt, 
he  was  ruthlessly  shattering  all  the  academic  proprieties 
of  their  aesthetics.  Prose  had,  nevertheless,  been  the 
predominant  form  of  his  drama  since  early  in  his  Bergen 
time;  he  had  designed  it  for  this  very  play.  In  the  Feast 
at  SolJioug  (1856)  he  had  been  beguiled  back  into  verse, 
we  can  hardly  doubt,  by  the  charms  of  Hertz's  Danish 
Svend  Dyring^s  House.  And  his  adoption  of  it  here  has 
been  plausibly  ascribed  to  the  impression  made  upon  liim 
by  a  brilliant  piece  of  contemporary  criticism  which  he  is 
known  to  have  read,  Moller's  book  On  French  and  Dan- 
ish Comedy  (1858), — where  the  metrical  and  other  excel- 
lencies of  the  latter  are  set  in  a  very  persuasive  light. 

The  mere  change  from  prose  to  verse  thus  brought 
with  it  a  notable  efflorescence  of  style.  How  the  change 
told  may  be  illustrated  by  a  few  lines  from  the  first  pas- 


INTRODUCTION  299 

sage  of  arms  between  Falk  and  Guldstad, — the  earlier 
part  a  moderate,  the  later  an  extreme  example.  In  the 
Svanhild  it  takes  this  form: 

Guld.  As  for  the  poetry  of  your  song,  let  it  be  as  it 
will:  but  there's  a  bad  moral  running  through  it.  What 
sort  of  economy  is  it  to  let  the  sparrow  eat  the  unripe 
fruit  before  it  comes  to  amihing  }  And  then  to  let  the 
cattle  loose  in  the  flower  garden  ?  A  nice  spectacle  it 
would  be  next  spring! 

Falk.  Next  spring!  If  you  really  enjoy  the  spring, 
my  friend,  you  will  wish  for  no  other  spring  than  the  one 
you  are  in.^ 

Compare  this  with  Guldstad's  speech  (p.  314): 
'As  for  your  song,  perhaps  it's  most  poetic,"  etc., 

and  with  Falk's  following  tirade: 
"Oh,  next,  next,  next!"  etc. 

to 

"  And  God  knows  if  there's  any  resting  then  ?  " 

A  stvle  so  insistently  vivacious  as  that  of  the  later  ver- 
sion  was  hardly  an  ideal  medium  for  drama.  But  Ibsen, 
with  all  his  joy  in  it,  is  its  master,  not  its  slave;  he  bends 
it  to  his  purpose,  and  it  becomes  in  his  hands  a  singularly 
plastic  medium  of  dramatic  expression.  The  marble  is 
too  richly  veined  for  ideal  sculpture,  but  it  takes  the  print 
of  life.  The  wit,  exuberant  as  it  is,  does  not  coruscate 
indiscriminately  upon  all  lips;  and  it  has  many  shades 
and  varieties — caustic,  ironical,  imaginative,  playful,  pas- 

'  Ibsen,  Efterladte  Skrifter,  I.  452.  3. 


300  LOVE'S   COMEDY 

sionate — which  take  their  temper  from  the  speaker's 
mood. 

But  the  development  of  the  prose  draft  went  far  be- 
yond style.  Motives  there  just  hinted  are  expanded  into 
scenes,  and  the  too  closely  packed  dramatic  ideas  acquire 
their  due  value.  The  stoning  of  Svanhild's  bird,  instead 
of  being  told  by  her,  is  done  before  our  eyes,  and  is,  more- 
over, made  dramatically  expressive  as  Falk's  symbolic 
vengeance  for  her  supposed  betrayal.  The  persons  and 
their  characters  are  substantially  the  same;  but  Stiver, 
the  law  clerk,  replaces  a  journalist,  and  the  personality 
of  Svanhild,  the  heroine,  is  immensely  strengthened  and 
enriched.  The  prose  Svanhild  is  little  more  than  a  pleas- 
ant Backfisch;  when  offended  with  Falk  she  will  refuse 
to  shake  hands  with  him;  but  she  is  quite  incapable  of 
the  powerful  and  subtle  home  thrusts  by  which  the  later 
Svanhild  lays  bare  the  weak  places  of  her  lover.  Still 
less  could  we  augur  for  her  the  lyrical  exaltations  of  the 
climax.  Yet  here  lay  the  essential  moment  of  the  whole 
action. 

For,  as  will  now  be  obvious.  Love's  Comedy,  with  all 
its  exuberant  wit  and  humour,  is  rooted  in  a  view  of 
life  which  is  not  "comic"  at  all.  The  laughter  that 
rings  through  it  is  not  the  genial,  tolerant  laughter  of 
the  humourist,  for  whom  the  anomalies  of  life  lie  on 
the  surface;  it  is  the  stern,  implacable  laughter  of  a 
Carlyle.  His  ridicule  of  ordinary  love-making  keeps,  in- 
deed, well  within  the  bounds  of  ordinary  comedy.  The 
ceremonial  formalities  of  the  continental  Verlohung,  the 
shrill  raptures  of  aunts  and  cousins  over  the  engaged 
pair,  the  satisfied   smile   of  enterprising   mater-familias 


INTRODUCTION  301 

as  she  reckons  up  the  talc  of  daughters  or  of  nieces 
safely  married  off  under  her  auspices;  or,  again,  the 
embarrassments  incident  to  a  prolonged  Brautstand  fol- 
lowing a  hasty  wooing,  the  deadly  effect  of  familiarity 
upon  a  shallow  affection,  and  the  anxious  efforts  to  save 
the  appearance  of  romance  when  its  zest  has  departed — 
even  the  drastic  picture  of  the  Strawmans,  Swiftian  in  its 
savagery,  whose  youthful  fire  has  been  converted  into 
ashes  and  smoke  by  the  preoccupations  of  a  fruitful 
marriage, — all  this  required  only  a  keen  eye  for  absur- 
dities, and  does  not  touch  the  core  of  Ibsen's  play. 
Camilla  Collett,  in  her  novel  the  OjfficiaVs  Daughters 
(1855),  had  ridiculed  the  same  absurdities  in  the  name 
of  that  very  marriage  for  love  which  Ibsen  repudiated. 
And  these  Stivers  and  Jays,  these  Linds  and  Annas,  seem 
much  less  calculated  to  stand  as  examples  of  the  fatuity 
of  marrying  for  love,  than  as  types  of  those  who  marry 
without  understanding  what  love  is  at  all.  The  problem 
of  love,  as  Ibsen  the  poet  and  idealist  saw  it,  is  not  in- 
volved in  their  mishaps.  The  gist  of  the  action  lies 
accordingly  in  the  relations  of  the  three  central  figures, 
— Falk,  Svanhild,  and  Guldstad.  All  three,  though  full 
of  dramatic  individuality,  convey  different  aspects  of 
Ibsen's  own  thought.  Falk,  whose  brilliant  mockery  pil- 
lories the  victims  of  conventional  love-making,  himself 
contributes  to  the  comedy  by  the  fatuous  egoism  of  his 
own  first  essay  in  love.  He  is  a  poet,  and  Ibsen,  as  so 
often  elsewhere,  ridicules  in  his  creation  foibles  which  he 
knew  as  passing  impulses,  or  even  as  vanquished  tempta- 
tions, in  himself.  But  as  a  poet  he  also  represents  Ibsen's 
poetic  and  idealist  inspiration  in  all  its  phases, — passing 


302  LOVE'S   COMEDY 

through  the  whole  gamut  from  Benedick  to  Romeo,  and 
finally  to  the  purely  Ibsenian  super-Romeo  who  renounces 
in  order  to  retain.  As  Falk  applies  his  cautery  to  the 
company  at  large,  Svanhild,  with  greater  insight  and  at 
least  equal  spirit,  applies  hers  to  him.  But  she  has  noth- 
ing in  common  with  the  self-willed  "emancipated"  Re- 
bekkas  and  Hildes  of  the  future.  She  is  rather  the  em- 
bodiment of  all  that  Ibsen  in  these  years  understood  by  a 
high-souled  girl's  devotion  in  love.  Her  vision  is  as  much 
finer  and  clearer  than  Falk's  as  her  heart  is  richer;  she 
convinces  him  of  his  weakness,  and  lifts  him  to  the  height 
of  his  strength.  And  the  renunciation  is  harder  by  far 
for  her.  He  is  a  poet,  and  the  "song  and  sun "  with  which 
her  love  has  filled  him  will  evidently  be  no  contemptible 
quid  pro  quo  for  its  loss.  But  Svanhild's  renunciation, 
rapturous  as  it  is,  is  indeed  her  "last  song."  She  lives 
in  her  memories,  but  she  has  buried  her  happiness.  "  Not 
at  all!"  exclaims  a  chorus  of  voices,  Dr.  Brandes's  un- 
happily among  them;  "she  subsides  into  the  arms  of 
Guldstad,  who  offers  her  a  maintenance,  a  peaceful  home, 
and  ample  means."  And  the  same  critics  who  quarrel 
with  her  renunciation  as  romantically  unreal,  denounce 
the  act  which  clinches  and  completes  it  as  "philistine" 
and  prosaic.  But  Svanhild  does  not  "console"  herself 
with  Guldstad.  Doubtless,  to  have  indignantly  refused 
his  hand  would  have  been  to  her  advantage  with  most 
readers.  She  makes  the  more  complete  surrender  of  a 
life  devoted  to  unromantic  duty.  Having  tasted  the  su- 
preme poetry  of  life,  she  is  ready  to  face  its  prose.  She 
is,  in  short,  Ibsen's  Svanhild,  true  child  of  the  poet  of 
exalted  idealism  arid  of  unflinching  matter  of  fact.     Guld- 


INTRODUCTION  303 

stad,  finally,  represents  exclusively  this  "unromantic" 
side  of  Ibsen.  Like  Antonio  in  Goethe's  Tasso,  he  con- 
fronts, and  finally  checkmates,  the  brilliant  wayward  poet 
with  the  calm  intelligence  and  strong  sense  of  the  ex- 
perienced man  of  the  world.  And  Guldstad  is  drawn 
with  yet  more  marked  sympathy  and  respect  than  An- 
tonio. He  expresses  Ibsen's  doctrine  of  marriage,  as 
Falk  and  Svanhild  his  doctrine  of  love.  When,  therefore, 
their  love,  in  defiance  of  both  doctrines,  is  on  the  point  of 
issuing  in  marriage,  the  formidable  merchant  faces  them 
with  the  double  weight  of  his  experience  and  of  their  own 
past  convictions,  and  becomes  immediately  master  of 
the  game.  But  there  is  no  triumph  in  his  success;  he 
takes  his  prize  with  tender  pity  and  sympathetic  under- 
standing; and  if  prose  in  his  person  prevails,  with  Ibsen's 
full  concurrence,  over  poetry,  it  is  prose  conscious  that  it 
is  but  the  second  best  course,  a  needful  accommodation  to 
the  world  of  facts. 

The  present  version  of  the  play  retains  the  metres  of 
the  original,  and  follows  it  in  general  line  for  line.  For  a 
long  passage,  occupying  substantially  the  first  twenty 
pages,  the  translator  is  indebted  to  the  editor  of  the  present 
work;  and  two  other  passages — Falk's  tirades  on  pp. 
366  and  408— result  from  a  fusion  of  versions  made  inde- 
pendently by  us  both.  /-.    tt    rr 

C  H.  H. 


LOVE'S   COMEDY 


PERSONS  OF  THE  COMEDY 

Mrs.  Halm,  widow  of  a  government  official. 

SVANHILD,  "I  ,        ,        7^ 
.  >  tier  daughters. 

Anna,  J  ^ 

Falk,  a  younq  avtlwr,       1  ,       ,        , 

T  J-   ■    -I      a   J    1     r  'if'*  boarders. 

LiiND,  a  divinuy  student,  J 

GuLDSTAD,  a  wholesale  raerchant. 

Stiver,  a  law-clerk. 

Miss  Jay,  his  fiancee. 

Strawman,  a  country  clergyman. 

Mrs.  Strawman,  his  xcife. 

Students,  Guests,  Married  and  Plighted  Pairs. 

The  Strawmans'  Eight  Little  Girls. 

Four  Aunts,  a  Porter,  Domestic  Servants. 


Scene. — Mrs.  Halm's  Villa  on  the  Drammensvejen  at  Chris- 

fi/int/i. 


tiania 


LOVE'S   COMEDY 

PLAY  m  THREE  ACTS 


ACT   FIRST 


The  Scene  represents  a  pretty  garden  irregularly  but 
tastefully  laid  out;  in  the  background  are  seen  tlie 
fjord  and  the  islands.  To  the  left  is  the  house,  with 
a  verandah  arul  an  open  dormer  window  above;  to 
the  right  in  the  foreground  an  open  summer-house 
with  a  table  and  benches.  The  landscape  lies  in 
bright  afternoon  sunshine.  It  is  early  summer; 
the  fruit-trees  are  in  flower. 

When  the  Curtain  rises,  Mrs.  Halm,  Anna,  and  Miss 
Jay  are  sitting  on  the  verandah,  the  first  two  engaged 
in  embroidery,  the  last  ivith  a  book.  In  the  summer- 
house  are  seen  Falk,  Lind,  Guldstad,  and  Stiver: 
a  punch-bowl  and  glasses  are  on  the  table.  Svan- 
HiLD  sits  alone  in  the  background  by  the  water. 

Falk. 
\Rises,  lifts  his  glass,  and  sings.] 

Sun-glad  day  in  garden  shady 

Was  but  made  for  thy  delight: 
What  though  promises  of  May-day 

Be  annulled  by  Autumn's  blight? 

.^07 


308  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Apple-blossom  white  and  splendid 
Drapes  thee  in  its  glowing  tent, — 

Let  it,  then,  when  day  is  ended. 
Strew  the  closes  storm-besprent. 

Chorus  of  Gentlemen. 
Let  it,  then,  when  day  is  ended,  etc. 

Falk. 

Wherefore  seek  the  harvest's  guerdon 

While  the  tree  is  yet  in  bloom .'' 
Wherefore  drudge  beneath  the  burden 

Of  an  unaccomplished  doom  ? 
Wherefore  let  the  scarecrow  clatter 

Day  and  night  upon  the  tree  ? 
Brothers  mine,  the  sparrow's  chatter 

Has  a  cheerier  melody. 

Chorus. 
Brothers  mine,  the  sparrow's  chatter,  etc. 

Falk. 

Happy  songster!     Wherefore  scare  him 

From  our  blossom-laden  bower? 
Rather  for  his  music  spare  him 

All  our  future,  flower  by  flower; 
Trust  me,  'twill  be  cheaply  buying 

Present  song  with  future  fruit; 
List  the  proverb,  "Time  is  flying; — " 

Soon  our  garden  music's  mute. 

Chorus. 
List  the  proverb,  etc. 


ACTi]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  309 

Falk. 

I  will  live  in  song  and  gladness,— 

Then,  when  every  bloom  is  shed. 
Sweep  together,  scarce  in  sadness, 

All  that  glory,  wan  and  dead: 
Fling  the  gates  wide!    Bruise  and  batter. 

Tear  and  trample,  hoof  and  tusk; 
I  have  plucked  the  flower,  what  matter 

Who  devours  the  withered  husk! 

Chorus. 

I  have  plucked  the  flower,  etc. 

[They  clink  arid  empty  their  glasses. 

Falk. 

[To  the  ladies.] 

There — that's  the  song  you  asked  me  for;   but  pray 
Be  lenient  to  it— I  can't  think  to-day. 

GULDSTAD. 

Oh,  never  mind  the  sense— the  sound's  the  thinff. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Looking  round.] 

But  Svanhild,  who  was  eagerest  to  hear — ? 
When  Falk  began,  she  suddenly  took  wing 
And  vanished — 

Anna. 
[Pointing  towards  the  back.] 

No,  for  there  she  sits — I  see  her. 


310  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[Sighing.] 

That  child !    Heaven  knows,  she's  past  my  compre- 
hending ! 

Miss  Jay. 

But,  Mr.  Falk,  I  thought  the  lyric's  ending 
Was  not  so  rich  in — well,  in  poetry. 
As  others  of  the  stanzas  seemed  to  be. 

Stiver. 

Why,  yes,  and  I  am  sure  it  could  not  tax 
Your  powers  to  get  a  little  more  inserted — 

Falk. 

[Clinking  glasses  with  him.] 

You  cram  it  in,  like  putty  into  cracks. 
Till  lean  is  into  streaky  fat  converted. 

Stiver. 

[Unruffled.] 

Yes,  nothing  easier— I,  too,  in  my  day 
Could  do  the  trick. 

Guldstad. 

Dear  me!    Were  you  a  poet? 

Miss  Jay. 
My  Stiver!     Yes! 

Stiver. 

Oh,  in  a  humble  way. 


ACTi]  LOVE'S  COMEDY  311 

Miss  Jay. 
[To  the  ladies.] 
His  nature  is  romantic. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Yes,  we  know  it. 

Stiver. 
Not  now;   it's  ages  since  I  turned  a  rhyme. 

Falk. 

Yes,  varnish  and  romance  go  off  with  time. 
But  in  the  old  days —  ? 

Stiver. 

Well,  you  see,  'twas  when 
I  was  in  love. 

Falk. 

Is  that  time  over,  then  ? 
Have  you  slept  off  the  sweet  intoxication  ? 

Stiver. 

I'm  now  engaged— I  hold  official  station— 
That's  better  than    in  love,    I  apprehend! 

Falk. 

Quite  so!   You're  in  the  right,  my  good  old  friend. 
The  worst  is  past — vous  voila  hien  avancs^— 
Promoted  from  mere  lover  io  fiance. 


312  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Stiver. 

[With  a  smile  of  complacent  recollection.] 

It's  strange  to  think  of  it — upon  my  word, 
I  half  suspect  my  memory  of  lying — 

[Turns  to  Falk. 
But  seven  years  ago — it  sounds  absurd! — 
I  wasted  office  hours  in  versifying. 

Falk. 
What!       Office  hours — ! 

Stiver. 
Yes,  such  were  my  transgressions. 

GULDSTAD. 

[Ringing  on  his  glass.] 
Silence  for  our  solicitor's  confessions! 

Stiver. 

But  chiefly  after  five,  when  I  was  free, 
I'd  rattle  off  whole  reams  of  poetry — 
Ten — fifteen  folios  ere  I  went  to  bed — 

Falk. 

I  see — you  gave  your  Pegasus  his  head. 
And  off  he  tore — 

Stiver. 

On  stamped  or  unstamped  paper — 
'Twas  all  the  same  to  him — he'd  prance  and  caper— 


ACTi]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  313 

Falk. 

The  spring  of  poetry  flowed  no  less  flush  ? 
But  how,  pray,  did  you  teach  it  first  to  gush  ? 

Stiver. 

By  aid  of  love's  divining-rod,  my  friend! 
Miss  Jay  it  was  that  taught  me  where  to  bore, 
Isly  fiancee — she  became  so  in  the  end — 
For  then  she  was — 

Falk. 
Your  love  and  nothing  more. 

Stiver. 

\Continuing.'\ 

'Twas  a  strange  time;   I  could  not  read  a  bit; 
I  tuned  my  pen  instead  of  pointing  it; 
And  when  along  the  foolscap  sheet  it  raced, 
It  twangled  music  to  the  words  I  traced; — 
At  last  by  letter  I  declared  my  flame 
To  her — to  her — 

Falk. 

Whose  fiance  you  became. 

Stiver. 

In  course  of  post  her  answer  came  to  hand 
The  motion  granted — judgment  in  my  favour! 

Falk. 

And  you  felt  bigger,  as  you  wrote,  and  braver. 
To  find  you'd  brought  your  venture  safe  to  land ! 


314  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Stiver. 
Of  course 

Falk. 

And  then  you  bade  the  Muse  farewell  ? 

Stiver. 

I've  felt  no  lyric  impulse,  truth  to  tell, 

From  that  day  forth.     My  vein  appeared  to  peter 

Entirely  out;   and  now,  if  I  essay 

To  turn  a  verse  or  two  for  New  Year's  Day, 

I  make  the  veriest  hash  of  rhyme  and  metre. 

And — I've  no  notion  what  the  cause  can  be — 

It  turns  to  law  and  not  to  poetry. 

GULDSTAD. 

[Clinks  glasses  with  him.] 

And,  trust  me,  you're  no  whit  the  worse  for  that! 

[To  Falk. 

You  think  the  stream  of  life  is  flowing  solely 

To  bear  you  to  the  goal  you're  aiming  at — 

But  you  may  find  yourself  mistaken  wholly. 

As  for  your  song,  perhaps  it's  most  poetic. 

Perhaps  it's  not — on  that  point  we  won't  quarrel — 

But  here  I  lodge  a  protest  energetic, 

Say  what  you  will,  against  its  wretched  moral. 

A  masterly  economy  and  new 

To  let  the  birds  play  havoc  at  their  pleasure 

Among  your  fruit-trees,  fruitless  now  for  you, 

And  suffer  flocks  and  herds  to  trample  through 

Your  garden,  and  lay  waste  its  springtide  treasure! 

A  pretty  prospect,  truly,  for  next  year! 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  315 

Falk. 

Oh,  next,  next,  next!      The  thought  I  loathe  and 

fear 
That  these  four  letters  timidly  express — 
It  beggars  millionaires  in  happiness! 
If  I  could  be  the  autocrat  of  speech 
But  for  one  hour,  that  hateful  word  I'd  banish; 
I'd  send  it  packing  out  of  mortal  reach, 
As  B  and  G  from  Knudsen's  Grammar  vanish. 

Stiver. 
Why  should  the  word  of  hope  enrage  you  thus? 

Falk. 

Because  it  darkens  God's  fair  earth  for  us. 

"Next  year,"  "next  love,"  "next  life,"— my  soul  is 

vext 
To  see  this  world  in  thraldom  to  "the  next." 
'Tis  this  dull  forethought,  bent  on  future  prizes, 
That  millionaires  in  gladness  pauperises. 
Far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  it  blurs  the  age; 
All  rapture  of  the  moment  it  destroys; 
No  one  dares  taste  in  peace  life's  simplest  joys 
Until  he's  struggled  on  another  stage — 
And  there  arriving,  can  he  there  repose  ? 
No — to  a  new  "next"  off  he  flies  again; 
On,  on,  unresting,  to  the  grave  he  goes; 
And  God  knows  if  there's  any  resting  then. 

Miss  Jay. 
Fie,  Mr.  Falk,  such  sentiments  are  shocking. 


316  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Anna. 

[Pensively.] 

Oh,  I  can  understand  the  feehng  quite; 
I  am  sure  at  bottom  Mr.  Falk  is  right. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Perturbed.] 

My  Stiver  mustn't  listen  to  his  mocking. 
He's  rather  too  eccentric  even  now. — 
My  dear,  I  want  you. 

Stiver. 
[Occupied  in  cleaning  his  pipe.] 

Presently,  my  dear. 

GULDSTAD. 

[To  Falk.] 

One  thing  at  least  to  me  is  very  clear; — 

And  that  is  that  you  cannot  but  allow 

Some  forethought  indispensable.     For  see, 

Suppose  that  you  to-day  should  write  a  sonnet. 

And,  scorning  forethought,  you  should  lavish  on  it 

Your  last  reserve,  your  all,  of  poetry. 

So  that,  to-morrow,  when  you  set  about 

Your  next  song,  you  should  find  yourself  cleaned  out, 

Heavens!    how  your  friends  the  critics  then  would 


crow! 


Falk. 

D'you  think  they'd  notice  I  was  bankrupt?    No! 
Once  beggared  of  ideas,  I  and  they 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  317 

Would  saunter  arm  in  arm  the  selfsame  way — 

[Breaking  off. 
But  Lind !  why,  what's  the  matter  with  you,  pray  ? 
You  sit  there  dumb  and  dreaming — I  suspect  you're 
Deep  in  the  mysteries  of  architecture. 

Lind. 

[Collecting  himself.] 
I  ?     What  should  make  you  think  so  ? 

Falk. 

I  observe. 
Your  eyes  are  glued  to  the  verandah  yonder — 
You're  studying,  mayhap,  its  arches'  curve. 
Or  can  it  be  its  pillars'  strength  you  ponder, 
The  door  perhaps,  with  hammered  iron  hinges.' 
The  window  blinds,  and  their  artistic  fringes  ? 
From  something  there  your  glances  never  wander. 

Lind. 

No,  you  are  wrong — I'm  just  absorbed  in  being — 
Drunk  with  the  hour — naught  craving,  naught  fore- 
seeing. 
I  feel  as  though  I  stood,  my  life  complete. 
With  all  earth's  riches  scattered  at  my  feet. 
Thanks  for  your  song  of  happiness  and  spring — 
From  out  my  inmost  heart  it  seemed  to  spring. 

[Lifts  Jiis  glass  and  exchanges  a  glance,  unob- 
served, ivith  Anna. 

Here's  to  the  blossom  in  its  fragrant  pride! 
What  reck  we  of  the  fruit  of  autumn-tide.? 

[Empties  his  glass. 


318  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Falk. 

[Looks  at  him  with  surprise  and  emotion,  but  assumes  a 

light  tone.] 
Behold,  fair  ladies!  though  you  scorn  me  quite, 
Here  I  have  made  an  easy  proselyte. 
His  hymn-book  yesterday  was  all  he  cared  for — 
To-day  e'en  dithyrambics  he's  prepared  for! 
We  poets  must  be  born,  cries  every  judge; 
But  prose-folks,  now  and  then,  like  Strasburg  geese. 
Gorge  themselves  so  inhumanly  obese 
On  rhyming  balderdash  and  rhythmic  fudge, 
That,  when  cleaned  out,  their  very  souls  are  thick 
With  lyric  lard  and  greasy  rhetoric.  [To  Lind. 

Your  praise,  however,  I  shall  not  forget; 
We'll  sweep  the  lyre  henceforward  in  duet. 

Miss  Jay. 

You,  Mr.  Falk,  are  hard  at  work,  no  doubt. 

Here  in  these  rural  solitudes  delightful, 

Where  at  your  own  sweet  will  you  roam  about — 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[Smiling.] 
Oh,  no,  his  laziness  is  something  frightful. 

Miss  Jay. 

What!   here  at  Mrs.  Halm's!   that's  most  surpris- 
ing— 
Surely  it's  just  the  place  for  poetising — 

[Pointing  to  the  right. 
That  summer-house,  for  instance,  in  the  wood 
Sequestered,  name  me  any  place  that  could 
Be  more  conducive  to  poetic  mood — 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  319 

Falk. 

Let  blindness  veil  the  sunlight  from  mine  eyes 
I'll  chant  the  splendour  of  the  sunlit  skies! 
Just  for  a  season  let  me  beg  or  borrow 
A  great,  a  crushing,  a  stupendous  sorrow, 
And  soon  you'll  hear  my  hymns  of  gladness  rise! 
But  best.  Miss  Jay,  to  nerve  my  wings  for  flight, 
Find  me  a  maid  to  be  my  life,  my  light — 
For  that  incitement  long  to  Heaven  I've  pleaded; 
But  hitherto,  w^orse  luck,  it  hasn't  heeded. 

Miss  Jay. 
What  levity! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Yes,  most  irreverent! 

Falk, 

Pray  don't  imagine  it  was  my  intent 

To  live  with  her  on  bread  and  cheese  and  kisses. 

No!  just  upon  the  threshold  of  our  blisses, 

Kind  Heaven  must  snatch  away  the  gift  it  lent. 

I  need  a  little  spiritual  gymnastic; 

The  dose  in  that  form  surely  would  be  drastic, 

SVANHILD 

[Has  during  the  talk  approached;  she  stands  close  to 
the  table,  and  says  in  a  determined  but  whimsical 
tone: 

I'll  pray  that  such  may  be  your  destiny. 
But,  when  it  finds  you — bear  it  like  a  man. 


320  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Falk. 

[Turning  round  in  surprise.] 

Miss  Svanhild! — well,  I'll  do  the  best  I  can. 
But  think  you  I  may  trust  implicitly 
To  finding  your  petitions  efficacious  ? 
Heaven,  as  you  know,  to  faith  alone  is  gracious — 
And  though  you've  doubtless  will  enough  for  two 
To  make  me  bid  my  peace  of  mind  adieu, 
Have  you  the  faith  to  carry  matters  through  ? 
That  is  the  question. 

Svanhild. 

[Half  in  jest.] 

Wait  till  sorrow  comes. 
And  all  your  being's  springtide  chills  and  numbs. 
Wait  till  it  gnaws  and  rends  you,  soon  and  late, 
Then  tell  me  if  my  faith  is  adequate. 

[She  goes  across  to  the  ladies. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[Aside  to  her.] 

Can  you  two  never  be  at  peace  ?   you've  made 
Poor  Mr.  Falk  quite  angry  I'm  afraid. 

[Continues  reprovingly  in  a  low  voice.     Miss 

Jay   joins   in   tJie   conversation.      Svanhild 

remains  cold  and  silent. 

Falk. 

[After  a  pause  of  reflection  goes  over  to  the  summer-house, 

then  to  himself] 

With  fullest  confidence  her  glances  lightened. 
Shall  I  believe,  as  she  does  so  securely. 
That  Heaven  intends — 


ACTi]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  321 

GULDSTAD. 

No,  hang  it!  don't  be  frightened! 
The  powers  above  would  be  demented  surely 
To  give  effect  to  orders  such  as  these. 
No,  my  good  sir — the  cure  for  your  disease 
Is  exercise  for  muscle,  nerve  and  sinew. 
Don't  lie  there  wasting  all  the  grit  that's  in  you 
In  idle  dreams;   cut  wood,  if  that  were  all; 
And  then  I'll  say  the  devil's  in't  indeed 
If  one  brief  fortnight  does  not  find  you  freed 
From  all  your  whimsies  high-fantastical 

Falk. 

Fetter'd  by  choice,  like  Burnell's  ass,  I  ponder — 
The  flesh  on  this  side,  and  the  spirit  yonder. 
Which  were  it  wiser  I  should  go  for  first  ? 

GuLDSTAD. 

[Filling  tJie  glasses.] 
First  have  some  punch — that  quenches  ire  and  thirst. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[Looking  at  her  watch.] 

Ha!    Eight  o'clock!   my  watch  is  either  fast,  or 
It's  just  the  time  we  may  expect  the  Pastor. 

[Rises,  and  puts  things  in  order  on  tJie  verandah. 

Falk. 
What !  have  we  parsons  coming  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

Don't  you  know  ? 


322  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [acti 

Mrs.  Halm. 
I  told  you,  just  a  little  while  ago — 

Anna. 
No,  mother— Mr.  Falk  had  not  yet  come. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Why  no,  that's  true;    but  pray  don't  look  so  glum. 
Trust  me,  you'll  be  enchanted  with  his  visit. 

Falk. 
A  clerical  enchanter;   pray  who  is  it  ? 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Why,  Pastor  Straw^man,  not  unknown  to  fame. 

Falk. 

Indeed!    Oh,  yes,  I  think  I've  heard  his  name, 

And  read  that  in  the  legislative  game 

He  comes  to  take  a  hand,  with  voice  and  vote. 

Stiver. 
He  speaks  superbly. 

GULDSTAD. 

When  he's  cleared  his  throat. 

Miss  Jay. 
He's  coming  with  his  wife — 


ACTi]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  323 

Mrs.  Halm, 

And  all  their  blessings — 

Falk. 

To  give  them  three  or  four  days'  treat,  poor  dears — 

Soon  he'll  be  buried  over  head  and  ears 

In  Swedish  muddles  and  official  messings — 

I  see! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[To  Falk.] 
Now  there's  a  man  for  you,  in  truth! 

GULDSTAD. 

They  say  he  was  a  rogue,  though,  in  his  youth. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Offended.] 

There,  Mr.  Guldstad,  I  must  break  a  lance! 
I've  heard  as  long  as  I  can  recollect. 
Most  worthy  people  speak  with  great  respect 
Of  Pastor  Strawman  and  his  life's  romance. 

Guldstad. 

[Laughing.] 
Romance  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

Romance!     I  call  a  match  romantic 
At  which  mere  worldly  wisdom  looks  askance. 

Falk 
You  make  my  curiosity  gigantic. 


324  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Miss  Jay. 

[Conti?iuing.] 

But  certain  people  always  grow  splenetic — 
Why,  goodness  knows — at  everything  pathetic. 
And  scoff  it  down.     We  all  know  how,  of  late, 
An  unfledged,  upstart  undergraduate 
Presumed  with  brazen  insolence,  to  declare 
That  "William  Russell"* was  a  poor  affair! 

Falk. 

But  what  has  this  to  do  with  Strawman,  pray? 
Is  he  a  poem,  or  a  Christian  play  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

[With  tears  of  emotion.] 

No,  Falk, — a  man,  with  heart  as  large  as  day. 
But  when  a — so  to  speak — mere  lifeless  thing 
Can  put  such  venom  into  envy's  sting. 
And  stir  up  evil  passions  fierce  and  fell 
Of  such  a  depth — 

Falk. 

[Sympathetically .] 

And  such  a  length  as  well — 

Miss  Jay. 

Why  then,  a  man  of  your  commanding  brain 
Can't  fail  to  see — 

Falk. 

Oh,  yes,  that's  very  plain. 
But  hitherto  I  haven't  quite  made  out 
The  nature,  style,  and  plot  of  this  romance. 

*  See  Notes,  page  483. 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  325 

It's  something  quite  delightful  I've  no  doubt- 
But  just  a  little  inkling  in  advance — 

Stiver. 

I  will  abstract,  in  rapid  resume. 
The  leading  points. 

Miss  Jay. 

No,  I  am  more  au  fait, 
I  know  the  ins  and  outs — 

Mrs.  Halm. 

I  know  them  too! 

Miss  Jay, 

Oh  Mrs.  Halm!  now  let  me  tell  it,  do! 
Well,  Mr.  Falk,  you  see— he  passed  at  college 
For  quite  a  miracle  of  wit  and  knowledge, 
Had  admirable  taste  in  books  and  dress — 

Mrs.  Halm. 
And  acted — privately — with  great  success. 

Miss  Jay. 
Yes,  wait  a  bit — he  painted,  played  and  wrote — 

Mrs.  Halm. 
And  don't  forget  his  gift  of  anecdote 

Miss  Jay 

Do  give  me  time;    I  know  the  whole  affair: 
He  made  some  verses,  set  them  to  an  air. 


326  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [acti 

Also  his  own, — and  found  a  publisher. 

O  Heavens!  with  what  romantic  melancholy 

He  played  and  sang  his  "Madrigals  to  Molly"! 

Mrs.  Halm. 
He  was  a  genius,  that's  the  simple  fact. 

GULDSTAD. 

[To  himself.] 
Hm!    Some  were  of  opinion  he  was  cracked. 

Falk. 

A  gray  old  stager,*  whose  sagacious  head 

Was  never  upon  mouldy  parchments  fed, 

Says  "Love  makes  Petrarchs,  just  as  many  lambs 

And  little  occupation,  Abrahams." 

But  who  was  Molly? 

Miss  Jay. 

Molly  ?     His  elect. 
His  lady-love,  whom  shortly  we  expect. 
Of  a  great  firm  her  father  was  a  member — 


A  timber  house. 


GuLDSTAD. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Curtly.] 
I'm  really  not  aware. 


GuLDSTAD. 

Did  a  large  trade  in  scantlings,  I  remember. 

'  See  Notes,  page  483. 


ACTi]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  327 

Miss  Jay. 
That  is  the  trivial  side  of  the  affair. 

Falk. 
A  firm? 

Miss  Jay. 

[Contitiuing.] 

Of  vast  resources,  I'm  informed. 
You  can  imagine  how  the  suitors  swarm'd; 
Gentlemen  of  the  highest  reputation. — 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Even  a  baronet  made  application. 

Miss  Jay. 

But  Molly  was  not  to  be  made  their  catch. 
Sh£  had  met  Strawman  upon  private  stages; 
To  see  him  was  to  love  him — 

Falk. 

And  despatch 
The  wooing  gentry  home  without  their  wages  ? 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Was  it  not  just  a  too  romantic  match? 

Miss  Jay. 

And  then  there  was  a  terrible  old  father, 
Whose  sport  was  thrusting  happy  souls  apart; 
She  had  a  guardian  also,  as  I  gather, 
To  add  fresh  torment  to  her  tortured  heart. 


328  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

But  each  of  them  was  loyal  to  his  vow; 

A  straw-thatched  cottage  and  a  snow-white  ewe 

They  dream'd  of,  just  enough  to  nourish  two — 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Or  at  the  rery  uttermost  a  cow, — 

Miss  Jay. 

In  short,  I've  heard  it  from  the  Hps  of  both, — 
A  beck,  a  byre,  two  bosoms,  and  one  troth. 

Falk. 
Ah  yes !     And  then —  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

She  broke  with  kin  and  class. 


She  broke —  ? 


Falk. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Broke  with  them. 

Falk. 

There's  a  plucky  lass! 

Miss  Jay. 
And  fled  to  Strawman's  garret — 

Falk. 

How  ?     Without— 
Ahem — the  priestly  consecration  ? 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  329 

Miss  Jay. 

Shame! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Fy,  fy!  my  late  beloved  husband's  name 
Was  on  the  list  of  sponsors — ! 

Stiver. 

[To  Miss  Jay.] 

You're  to  blame 
For  leaving  that  important  item  out. 
In  a  report  'tis  of  the  utmost  weight 
That  the  chronology  be  accurate. 
But  what  I  never  yet  could  comprehend 
Is  how  on  earth  they  managed — 

Falk. 

The  one  room 

Not  housing  sheep  and  cattle,  I  presume. 

Miss  Jay. 

[To  Stiver.] 

O,  but  you  must  consider  this,  my  friend; 
There  is  no  Want  where  Love's  the  guiding  star; 
All's  right  without  if  tender  Troth's  within. 

[To  Falk. 
He  loved  her  to  the  notes  of  the  guitar, 
And  she  gave  lessons  on  the  violin — 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Then  all,  of  course,  on  credit  they  bespoke — 

GULDSTAD. 

Till,  in  a  year,  the  timber  merchant  broke. 


330  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Then  Strawman  had  a  call  to  north. 

Miss  Jay. 

And  there 
Vowed,  in  a  letter  that  I  saw  (as  few  did), 
He  lived  but  for  his  duty,  and  for  her. 

Falk. 

[As  if  completing  her  statement.] 
And  with  those  words  his  Life's  Romance  concluded. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[Rising.] 

How  if  we  should  go  out  upon  the  lawn, 
And  see  if  there's  no  prospect  of  them  yet  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

[Draiving  on  her  mantle.] 

It's  cool  already. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Svanhild,  will  you  get 
My  woollen  shawl? — Come  ladies,  pray! 

LiND. 

[To  Anna,  unobserved  by  the  others.] 

Go  on! 
[Svanhild  goes  into  the  house;  the  others,  except 
Falk,  go  towards  the  back  and  out  to  the  left. 
LiND,  who  has  followed,  stojjs  and  returns. 

LiND. 

My  friend ! 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  331 

Falk. 
Ah,  ditto. 

LiND. 

Falk,  your  hand!    The  tide 
Of  joy's  so  vehement,  it  will  perforce 
Break  out — 

Falk. 

Hullo  there;   you  must  first  be  tried; 
Sentence  and  hanging  follow  in  due  course. 
Now,  what  on  earth's  the  matter?     To  conceal 
From  me,  your  friend,  this  treasure  of  your  finding; 
For  you'll  confess  the  inference  is  binding: 
You've  come  into  a  prize  off  Fortune's  wheel! 

LiND. 

I*ve  snared  and  taken  Fortune's  blessed  bird! 

Falk. 
How  ?    Living, — and  undamaged  by  the  steel  ? 

LiND. 

Patience;    I'll  tell  the  matter  in  one  word. 
I  am  engaged !     Conceive — ! 

Falk. 

[Quickhj.] 

Engaged ! 

LiND. 

It's  true. 
To-day, — with  unimagined  courage  swelling, 
I  said, — ahem,  it  will  not  bear  re-telling; — 


332  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

But  only  think,— the  sweet  young  maiden  grew 
Quite  rosy-red,— but  not  at  all  enraged! 
You  see,  Falk,  what  I  ventured  for  a  bride! 
She  listened, — and  I  rather  think  she  cried; 
That,  sure,  means  "Yes"? 

Falk. 

If  precedents  decide; 

Go  on. 

LiND. 

And  so  we  really  are — engaged  ? 

Falk. 

I  should  conclude  so;    but  the  only  way 
To  be  quite  certain,  is  to  ask  Miss  Jay. 

LiND. 

O  no,  I  feel  so  confident,  so  clear! 
So  perfectly  assured,  and  void  of  fear. 

[Radiantly f  in  a  mysterious  tone. 
Hark!     I  had  leave  her  fingers  to  caress 
When  from  the  coffee-board  she  drew  the  cover. 

Falk. 
[Lifting  and  emptying  his  glass.] 
"Well,  flowers  of  spring  your  wedding  garland  dress! 

LiND. 

[Doing  the  same.] 

And  here  I  swear  by  heaven  that  I  will  love  her 

Until  I  die,  with  love  as  infinite 

As  now  glows  in  me,— for  she  is  so  sweet! 


ACTi]  LOVE'S    COMEDY  333 

Falk. 

Engaged!     Aha,  so  that  was  why  you  flung 
The  Holy  Law  and  Prophets  on  the  shelf! 

LiND. 

[Laughing.] 
And  you  believed  it  was  the  song  you  sung — ! 

Falk. 
A  poet  believes  all  things  of  himself. 

LiND. 

[Seriously .] 

Don't  think,  however,  Falk,  that  I  dismiss 
The  theologian  from  my  hour  of  bliss. 
Only,  I  find  the  Book  will  not  suffice 
As  Jacob's  ladder  unto  Paradise. 
I  must  into  God's  world,  and  seek  Him  there. 
A  boundless  kindness  in  my  heart  upsprings, 
I  love  the  straw,  I  love  the  creeping  things; 
They  also  in  my  joy  shall  have  a  share. 

Falk. 
Yes,  only  tell  me  this,  though — 

LiND. 

I  have  told  it, — 
My  precious  secret,  and  our  three  hearts  hold  it! 

Falk. 

But  have  you  thought  about  the  future? 


SSi  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

LiND. 

Thought  ? 
I  ? — thought  about  the  future  ?     No,  from  this 
Time  forth  I  Uve  but  in  the  hour  that  is. 
In  home  shall  all  my  happiness  be  sought; 
We  hold  Fate's  reins,  we  drive  her  hither,  thither, 
And  neither  friend  nor  mother  shall  have  right 
To  say  unto  my  budding  blossom:   Wither! 
For  I  am  earnest  and  her  eyes  are  bright, 
And  so  it  must  unfold  into  the  light! 

Falk. 
Yes,  Fortune  likes  you,  you  will  serve  her  turn! 

LiND. 

My  spirits  like  wild  music  glow  and  burn; 
I  feel  myself  a  Titan:    though  a  foss 
Opened  before  me — I  would  leap  across! 

Falk. 

Your  love,  you  mean  to  say,  in  simple  prose. 
Has  made  a  reindeer  of  you. 

LiND. 

Well,  suppose; 
But  in  my  wildest  flight,  I  know  the  nest 
In  which  my  heart's  dove  longs  to  be  at  rest! 

Falk. 

Well  then,  to-morrow  it  may  fly  con  brio; 
You're  off  into  the  hills  with  the  quartette. 
I'll  guarantee  you  against  cold  and  wet — 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  335 

LiND. 

Pooh,  the  quartette  may  go  and  climb  in  trio^ 
The  lowly  dale  has  mountain  air  for  me; 
Here  I've  the  immeasurable  fjord,  the  flowers. 
Here  I  have  warbling  birds  and  choral  bowers, 
And  lady  Fortune's  self, — for  here  is   she! 

Falk. 

Ah,  lady  Fortune  by  our  Northern  water 
Is  rara  avis, — hold  her  if  you've  caught  her! 

[With  a  glance  towards  the  house. 
Hist — Svanhild — 

LiND. 

Well;   I  go, — disclose  to  none 
The  secret  that  we  share  alone  with  one. 
*Twas  good  of  you  to  listen:    now  enfold  it 
Deep  in  your  heart, — warm,  glowing,  as  I  told  it. 
[He  goes  out  in  the  background  to  the  others. 
Falk  looks  after  him  a  moment,  and  'paces 
up  and  down  in  the  garden,  visibly  striving 
to  master  his  agitation.     Presently  Svanhild 
comes  out  with  a  shawl  on  her  arm,  and  is 
going  towards   the   back.     Falk  approaches 
and  gazes  at  her  fixedly.    Svanhild  stops. 

Svanhild. 
[After  a  short  pause. 1 
You  gaze  so  at  me  ? 

Falk. 
[Half  to  himself. 1 

Yes,  'tis    there — the  same; 
The  shadow  in  her  eyes'  deep  mirror  sleeping, 


336  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

The  roguish  elf  about  her  lips  a-peeping, 
It  i  s  there. 

SVANHILD. 

What  ?     You  frighten  me. 

Falk. 

Your  name 

Is  Svanhild  ? 

SVANHILD. 

Yes,  you  know  it  very  well. 

Falk. 

But  do  y  o  u  know  the  name  is  laughable  ? 
I  beg  you  to  discard  it  from  to-night! 

Svanhild. 
That  would  be  far  beyond  a  daughter's  right — 

Falk. 

[LaugJiing.] 

Hm.     "Svanhild!     Svanhild!" 

[With  sudden  gravity. 
With  your  earliest  breath 
How  came  you  by  this  prophecy  of  death  ? 

Svanhild, 
Is  it  so  grim  ? 

Falk, 

No,  lovely  as  a  song, 
But  for  our  age  too  great  and  stern  and  strong, 
How  can  a  modern  demoiselle  fill  out 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  337 

The  ideal  that  heroic  name  expresses? 

No,  no,  discard  it  with  your  outworn  dresses. 

SVANHILD. 

You  mean  the  mythical  princess,  no  doubt — 

Falk, 
Who,  guiltless,  died  beneath  the  horse's  feet. 

SvANHILD, 

But  now  such  acts  are  clearly  obsolete. 

No,  no,  I'll  mount  his  saddle!    There's  my  place! 

How  often  have  I  dreamt,  in  pensive  ease. 

He  bore  me,  buoyant,  through  the  world  apace. 

His  mane  a  flag  of  freedom  in  the  breeze! 

Falk. 

Yes,  the  old  tale.     In  "pensive  ease"  no  mortal 
Is  stopped  by  thwarting  bar  or  cullis'd  portal; 
Fearless  we  cleave  the  ether  without  bound; 
In  practice,  tho',  we  shrewdly  hug  the  ground; 
For  all  love  life  and,  having  choice,  will  choose  it; 
And  no  man  dares  to  leap  where  he  may  lose  it. 

SVANHILD. 

Yes!   show  me  but  the  end,  I'll  spurn  the  shore; 
But  let  the  end  be  worth  the  leaping  for! 
A  Ballarat  beyond  the  desert  sands — 
Else  each  will  stay  exactly  where  he  stands. 

Falk. 
[Sarcastically.] 
I  grasp  the  case; — the  due  conditions  fail. 


338  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

SVANHILD. 

[Eagerly.] 

Exactly:   what's  the  use  of  spreading  sail 
When  there  is  not  a  breath  of  wind  astir? 

Falk. 

[Ironically.] 

Yes,  what's  the  use  of  plying  whip  and  spur 
When  there  is  not  a  penny  of  reward 
For  him  who  tears  him  from  the  festal  board, 
And  mounts,  and  dashes  headlong  to  perdition  ? 
Such  doing  for  the  deed's  sake  asks  a  knight, 
And  knighthood's  now  an  idle  superstition. 
That  was  your  meaning,  possibly? 

SVANHILD, 

Quite  right. 
Look  at  that  fruit-tree  in  the  orchard  close, — 
No  blossom  on  its  barren  branches  blows. 
You  should  have  seen  last  year  with  what  brave  airs 
It  staggered  underneath  its  world  of  pears. 

Falk. 
[Uncertain.] 
No  doubt,  but  what's  the  moral  you  impute  ? 

SVANHILD. 

[With  finesse.] 

O,  among  other  things,  the  bold  unreason 
Of  modern  Zacharies  who  seek  for  fruit. 
If  the  tree  blossom'd  to  excess  last  season. 
You  must  not  crave  the  blossoms  back  in  this. 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  339 

Falk. 

I  knew  you'd  find  your  footing  in  the  ways 
Of  old  Romance. 

SVANHILD. 

Yes,  modern  virtue  is 
Of  quite  another  stamp.     Who  now  arrays 
Himself  to  battle  for  the  truth  }    Who'll  stake 
His  life  and  person  fearless  for  truth's  sake  ? 
Where  is  the  hero  ? 

Falk. 
\Looking  keenly  at  her.'l 

Where  is  the  Valkyria  ? 

SVANHILD. 

[Shaking  Iter  Iiead.] 

Valkyrias  find  no  market  in  this  land! 
When  the  faith  lately  was  assailed  in  Syria, 
Did  y  o  u  go  out  with  the  crusader-band  ? 
No,  but  on  paper  you  were  warm  and  willing, — 
And  sent  the  "Clerical  Gazette"  a  shilling. 

[Pause.    Falk  is  about  to  retort,  but  checks  him- 
self, and  goes  into  the  garden. 

SVANHILD. 

[After  watching  him  a  moment,  approaches  him  and  asks 

gently:] 

Falk,  are  you  angry  ? 

Falk. 

No,  I  only  brood, — 


340  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

SVANHILD, 

[With  tJwughtful  sympathy.] 

You  seem  to  be  two  natures,  still  at  feud, — 
Unreconciled — 

Falk. 

I  know  it  well. 

SVANHILD. 

[Impetuously .] 

But  why  ? 

Falk. 

[Losing  self-control.] 

Why,  why  ?    Because  I  hate  to  go  about 
With  soul  bared  boldly  to  the  vulgar  eye, 
As  Jock  and  Jennie  hang  their  passions  out; 
To  wear  my  glowing  heart  upon  my  sleeve. 
Like  women  in  low  dresses.    You,  alone, 
Svanhild,  you  only, — you,  I  did  believe, — 
Well,  it  is  past,  that  dream,  for  ever  flown. — 
[SJie  goes  to  the  suminer-house  and  looks  out; 
lie  follows. 
You  listen — ? 

Svanhild. 

To  another  voice,  that  sings. 
Hark!  every  evening  when  the  sun's  at  rest, 
A  little  bird  floats  hither  on  beating  wings, — 
See  there — it  darted  from  its  leafy  nest — 
And,  do  you  know,  it  is  my  faith, — as  oft 
As  God  makes  any  songlcss  soul,  He  sends 
A  little  bird  to  be  her  friend  of  friends. 
And  sing  for  ever  in  her  garden-croft. 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  341 

Falk. 

[Picking  up  a  stone.] 

Then  must  the  owner  and  the  bird  be  near. 
Or  its  song's  squandered  on  a  stranger's  ear. 

SVANHILD. 

Yes,  that  is  true;    but  I've  discovered  mine. 
Of  speech  and  song  I  am  denied  the  power. 
But  when  it  warbles  in  its  leafy  bower. 
Poems  flow  in  upon  my  brain  like  wine — 
Ah,  yes, — they  fleet — they  are  not  to  be  won — 

[Falk  throivs  the  stone.     Svanhild  screams. 
O  God,  you've  hit  it!     Ah,  what  have  you  done! 
[She  hurries  out  to  the  right  and  then  quickly 

returns. 

0  pity!  pity! 

Falk. 

[In  passionate  agitation.] 

No, — but  eye  for  eye, 
Svanhild,  and  tooth  for  tooth.     Now  you'll  attend 
No  further  greetings  from  your  garden-friend. 
No  guerdon  from  the  land  of  melody. 
That  is  my  vengeance:  as  you  slew,  I  slay. 

Svanhild. 

1  slew  ? 

Falk. 

You  slew.     Until  this  very  day, 
A  clear-voiced  song-bird  warbled  in  my  soul; 
See, — now  one  passing  bell  for  both  may  toll — 
You've  killed  it! 


342  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [acti 

SVANHILD. 

Havel? 

Falk. 

Yes,  for  you  have  slain 
My  young,  high-hearted,  joyous  exultation — 

[  Co  ntemptuously . 
By  your  betrothal ! 

SVANHILD. 

How!    But  pray,  explain — ! 

Falk. 

O,  it's  in  full  accord  with  expectation; 

He  gets  his  licence,  enters  orders,  speeds  to 

A  post, — as  missionary  in  the  West — 

SVANHILD. 

[In  the  same  tone.] 

A  pretty  penny,  also,  he  succeeds  to; — 
For  it  is  Lind  you  speak  of — ? 

Falk. 

You  know  best 
Of  whom  I  speak. 

SVANHILD. 

[With  a  subdued  smile.] 

As  the  bride's  sister,  true, 
I  cannot  help — 

Falk. 

Great  God !    It  is  not  you —  ? 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  343 

SVANHILD. 

Who  win  this  overplus  of  bliss?    Ah  no! 

Falk. 

[With  almost  childish  joy.] 

It  is  not  you !    O  God  be  glorified ! 
What  love,  what  mercy  does  He  not  bestow! 
I  shall  not  see  you  as  another's  bride; — 
'Twas  but  the  fire  of  pain  He  bade  me  bear — 

[Tries  to  seize  her  hand. 
O  hear  me,  Svanhild,  hear  me  then — 

SVANHILD. 

[Pointing  quickly  to  the  background.] 

See  there! 
[She  goes  towards  the  house.  At  the  same 
moment  Mrs.  Halm,  Anna,  Miss  Jay, 
GuLDSTAD,  Stiver,  and  Lind  emerge  from 
the  background.  During  the  previous  scene 
the  sun  has  set;  it  is  now  dark. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[To  Svanhild.] 

The  Strawmans  may  be  momently  expected 
Where  have  you  been  ? 

Miss  Jay. 
[After  glancing  at  Falk.] 

Your  colour's  very  high. 

Svanhild. 
A  little  face-ache;   it  will  soon  pass  by. 


344  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Mrs.  Halm. 

And  yet  you  walk  at  nightfall  unprotected  ? 
Arrange  the  room,  and  see  that  tea  is  ready; 
Let  everything  be  nice;   I  know  the  lady. 

[SvANHiLD  goes  in. 

Stiver. 
{To  Falk.] 

What  is  the  colour  of  this  parson's  coat? 

Falk. 
I  guess  bread-taxers  would  not  catch  his  vote. 

Stiver. 

How  if  one  made  allusion  to  the  store 
Of  verses,  yet  unpublished,  in  my  drawer? 

Falk. 
It  might  do  something. 

Stiver. 

Would  to  heaven  it  might! 
Our  wedding's  imminent;    our  purses  light. 
Courtship's  a  very  serious  affair. 

Falk. 
Just  so:    " Quallais-tu /aire  dans  cette  galere?" 

Stiver. 
Is  courtship  a  "galere  ?" 

Falk. 

No,  married  lives; — 
All  servitude,  captivity,  and  gyves. 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  345 

Stiver. 

[Seeing  Miss  Jay  approach.] 

You  little  know  what  wealth  a  man  obtains 
From  woman's  eloquence  and  woman's  brains. 

Miss  Jay. 
[Aside  to  Stiver.] 
Will  Guldstad  give  us  credit,  think  you? 

Stiver. 

[Peevishly.] 

I 
Am  not  quite  certain  of  it  yet:   I'll  try, 

[They    withdraw    in    conversation;     Lind    and 
Anna  approach. 

Lind. 

[Aside  to  Falk.] 

I  can't  endure  it  longer;    in  post-haste 
I  must  present  her — 

Falk. 

You  had  best  refrain, 
And  not  initiate  the  eye  profane 
Into  your  mysteries — 

Lind. 

That  would  be  a  jest! — 
From  you,  my  fellow-boarder,  and  my  mate. 
To  keep  concealed  my  new-found  happy  state! 
Nay,  now,  my  head  with  Fortune's  oil  anointed — 


346  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Falk. 

You  think  the  occasion  good  to  get  it  curled? 
Well,  my  good  friend,  you  won't  be  disappointed; 
Go  and  announce  your  union  to  the  world ! 

LiND. 

Other  reflections  also  weigh  with  me. 

And  one  of  more  especial  gravity; 

Say  that  there  lurked  among  our  motley  band 

Some  sneaking,  sly,  pretender  to  her  hand; 

Say,  his  attentions  became  undisguised, — 

We  should  be  disagreeably  compromised. 

Falk. 

Yes,  it  is  true;    it  had  escaped  my  mind, 

You  for  a  higher  oflBce  were  designed. 

Love  as  his  young  licentiate  has  retained  you; 

Shortly  you'll  get  a  permanent  position; 

But  it  would  be  defying  all  tradition 

If  at  the  present  moment  he  ordained  you. 

LiND. 

Yes  if  the  merchant  does  not — 

Falk. 

What  of  him  ? 

Anna. 

[  Troubled.] 

Oh,  it  is  Lind's  unreasonable  whim. 

LiND. 

Hush;    I've  a  deep  foreboding  that  the  man 
Will  rob  me  of  my  treasure,  if  he  can. 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  347 

The  fellow,  as  we  know,  comes  daily  down, 
Is  rich,  unmarried,  takes  you  round  the  town; 
In  short,  my  own,  regard  it  as  we  will. 
There  are  a  thousand  things  that  bode  us  ill. 


Anna. 

[Sighitig.] 
Oh,  it's  too  bad;   to-day  was  so  delicious. 

Falk. 

[Sympathetically  to  Lind.] 

Don't  wreck  your  joy,  unfoundedly  suspicious. 
Don't  hoist  your  flag  till  time  the  truth  disclose — 

Anna. 

Great  God!    Miss  Jay  is  looking;   hush,  be  still! 
[She  and  Lind  icithdraw  in  different  directions. 

Falk. 
[Loolcing  after  Lind.] 
So  to  the  ruin  of  his  youth  he  goes. 

GULDSTAD. 

\Who  has  meantime  been  conversing  on  the  steps  with 
Mrs.  Halm  and  Miss  Jay,  approaches  Falk  and 
slaps  him  on  the  shoulder. 

Well,  brooding  on  a  poem  ? 

Falk. 

No,  a  play. 

GuLDSTAD. 

The  deuce; — I  never  heard  it  was  your  line. 


348  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Falk. 

O  no,  the  author  is  a  friend  of  mine. 
And  your  acquaintance  also,  I  daresay. 
The  knave's  a  dashing  writer,  never  doubt. 
Only  imagine,  in  a  single  day 
He's  worked  a  perfect  little  Idyll  out. 

GULDSTAD. 

[Slily.] 
With  happy  ending,  doubtless! 

Falk. 

You're  aware, 
No  curtain  falls  but  on  a  plighted  pair. 
Thus  with  the  Trilogy's  First  Part  we've  reckoned; 
But  now  the  poet's  labour-throes  begin; 
The  Comedy  of  Troth-plight,  Part  the  Second, 
Thro'  five  insipid  Acts  he  has  to  spin. 
And  of  that  staple,  finally,  compose 
Part  Third, — or  Wedlock's  Tragedy,  in  prose. 

GuLDSTAD. 

[STniling.] 
The  poet's  vein  is  catching,  it  would  seem. 

Falk. 
Really  ?     How  so,  pray  ? 

Guldstad. 

Since  I  also  pore 
And  ponder  over  a  poetic  scheme, — 

[My  Seriously. 
An  actuality — and  not  a  dream. 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  349 

Falk. 
And  pray,  who  is  the  hero  of  your  theme  ? 

GULDSTAD. 

I'll  tell  you  that  to-morrow — not  before. 

Falk. 
It  is  yourself! 

GuLDSTAD. 

You  think  me  equal  to  it  ? 

Falk. 

I'm  sure  no  other  mortal  man  could  do  it. 

But  then  the  heroine  ?     No  city  maid, 

I'll  swear,  but  of  the  country,  breathing  balm  ? 

GuLDSTAD. 

[Lifting  his  finger. 1 

Ah, — that's  the  point,  and  must  not  be  betrayed! — 

[Changing  his  tone. 
Pray  tell  me  your  opinion  of  Miss  Halm. 

Falk. 

O  you're  best  able  to  pronounce  upon  her; 
My  voice  can  neither  credit  nor  dishonour, — 

[Smiling. 
But  just  take  care  no  mischief-maker  blot 
This  fine  poetic  scheme  of  which  you  talk. 
Suppose  I  were  so  shameless  as  to  balk 
The  meditated  climax  of  the  plot  ? 


350  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

GULDSTAD. 

[Good-naturedly.] 
Well,  I  would  cry  "Amen,"  and  change  my  plan. 

Falk. 
What! 

GuLDSTAD. 

Why,  you  see,  you  are  a  letter'd  man; 
How  monstrous  were  it  if  your  skill'd  design 
Were  ruined  by  a  bungler's  hand  like  mine! 

[Retires  to  the  background. 

Falk. 

[In  passing,  to  Lind.] 

Yes,  you  were  right;  the  merchant's  really  scheming 
The  ruin  of  your  new-won  happiness. 

Lind. 

[Aside  to  Anna.] 

Now  then  you  see,  my  doubting  was  not  dreaming; 
We'll  go  this  very  moment  and  confess. 

[Theij  approach  Mrs.  Halm,  who  is  standing 
with  Miss  Jay  hy  the  house. 

GuLDSTAD. 

[Conversing  with  Stiver.] 
'Tis  a  fine  evening. 


A  man's  disposed — 


Stiver. 

Very  likely, — when 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  351 

GULDSTAD. 

[Facetiously.] 

What,  all  not  running  smooth 
In  true  love's  course  ? 

Stiver, 

Not  that  exactly — 

Falk. 

[Coming  up.] 

Then 
With  your  engagement  ? 

Stiver. 

That's  about  the  truth.      * 

Falk. 

Hurrah!    Your  spendthrift  pocket  has  a  groat 
Or  two  still  left,  it  seems,  of  poetry. 

Stiver. 

[Stiffly-] 

I  cannot  see  what  poetry  has  got 

To  do  with  my  engagement,  or  with  me. 

Falk. 

You  are  not  meant  to  see;  when  lovers  prove 
What  love  is,  all  is  over  with  their  love. 

Guldstad. 
[To  Stiver.] 

But  if  there's  matter  for  adjustment,  pray 
Let's  hear  it. 


Soi  LOVES   COMEDY  [acti 

Sttteb. 

I*ve  been  pondering  all  day 
Whether  the  thing  is  proper  to  disclose. 
But  still  the  Ayes  are  balanced  by  the  Noes. 

Falk. 

I'll  ricrht  tou  in  one  sentence.    Ever  since 
As  plighted  lover  you  were  first  installed. 
You've  felt  yourself,  if  I  may  say  so,  galled — 

Stiver. 
And  sometimes  to  the  quick. 

Falk. 

Y'ou've  had  to  wince 
Beneath  a  crushing  load  of  obHgations 
That  vou'd  send  packing,  if  good  form  permitted. 
That's  what's  the  matter. 

STrmE. 

Monstrous  accusations! 
My  legal  debts  I've  honestly  acquitted; 
But  other  bonds  next  month  are  falling  due; 

[To  GULDSTAD. 

When  a  man  weds,  you  see,  he  gets  a  wife — 

Falk. 
[Triumphant.] 

Now  vour  vouth's  heaven  once  again  is  blue. 
There  rang  an  echo  from  your  old  song-life  I 
That's  how  it  is:  I  read  you  thro'  and  thro'; 
Wings,  wings  were  all  you  wanted, — and  a  knife! 

Stivze. 
A  knife  ? 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  358 

Falk. 

Yes.  Resolution's  knife,  to  sever 
Each  captive  bond,  and  set  you  free  for  ever. 
To  soar — 

Stiver. 
[Angrily.] 

Nav.  now  vou're  insolent  bevond 
Endurance!    Me  to  charij^e  with  violation 
Of  law. — me.  me  with  plotting  to  abscond! 
It's  libellous,  malicious  defamation. 
Insult  and  calumnv — 

Falk. 

Are  you  insane  ? 
What  is  all  this  about?    Explain!    Explain! 

CJuLTtSTAD. 

[Laugln'ngh/  to  Stiver.] 

Yes,  clear  your  mind  of  all  this  balderdash! 
What  do  vou  want  ? 

Stiver. 
[Pulling  himself  together.] 

A  trifling  loan  in  cash. 

Falk. 
A  loan! 

Stiver. 

[Hurrirdly  to  Guldstad.] 

That  is,  I  mean  to  sav,  vou  know, 
A  voucher  for  a  ten  pouml  note,  or  so. 


354  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Miss  Jay. 

[To  LiND  and  Anna.] 

I  wish  you  joy!    How  lovely,  how  delicious! 

Guldstad. 
[Going  up  to  the  ladies.  \ 

Pray  what  has  happened  ? 

[To  himself.] 

This  was  unpropitious. 

Falk. 
[Throws  his  arms  about  Stiver's  neck.] 

Hurrah!  the  trumpet's  dulcet  notes  proclaim 
A  brother  born  to  you  in  Amor's  name! 

[Drags  him  to  the  others. 

Miss  Jay. 
[To  the  gentlemen.] 

Think !    Lind  and  Anna — think ! — have  plighted 

hearts, 
Affianced  lovers! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[With  tears  of  emotion.] 

'Tis  the  eighth  in  order 
Who  well-provided  from  this  house  departs; 

[To  Falk. 
Seven  nieces  wedded — always  with  a  boarder — 

[Is    overcome;  presses  her  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes. 


ACTi]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  355 

Miss  Jay. 
[To  Anna.] 

Well,  there  will  come  a  flood  of  gratulation ! 

[Caresses  her  with  emotion. 

LiND. 
[Seizing  Falk's  hand.] 
My  friend,  I  walk  in  rapt  intoxication: 

Falk. 

Hold!    As  a  plighted  man  you  are  a  member 
Of  Rapture's  Temperance-association. 
Observe  its  rules; — no  orgies  here,  remember! 

[Turning  to  Guldstad  sympathetically. 
Well,  my  good  sir! 

Guldstad. 
[Beaming  with  pleasure.] 

I  think  this  promises 
x\ll  happiness  for  both. 

Falk. 
[Staring  at  him.] 

You  seem  to  stand 
The  shock  with  exemplary  self-command. 
That's  well. 

Guldstad. 
What  do  you  mean,  sir? 


356  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Falk. 

Only  this; 
That  inasmuch  as  you  appeared  to  feed 
Fond  expectations  of  your  own — 

GULDSTAD. 

Indeed  ? 

Falk. 

At  any  rate,  you  were  upon  the  scent. 

You  named  Miss  Halm;    you  stood  upon  this  spot 

And  asked  me — 

GuLDSTAD. 

[Smiling.] 
There  are  two,  though,  are  there  not  ? 

Falk. 
It  was — the  other  sister  that  you  meant? 

GuLDSTAD. 

That    sister,  yes,  the  other  one, — just  so. 
Judge  for  yourself,  when  you  have  come  to  know 
That  sister  better,  if  she  has  not  in  her 
Merits  which,  if  they  were  divined,  would  win  her 
A  little  more  regard  than  we  bestow. 

Falk. 
[Coldly.] 

Her  virtues  are  of  every  known  variety 
I'm  sure. 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  357 

GULDSTAD. 

Not  quite;    the  accent  of  society 
She  cannot  hit  exactly;   there  she  loses. 

Falk. 
A  grievous  fault. 

GuLDSTAD. 

But  if  her  mother  chooses 
To  spend  a  winter  on  her,  she'll  come  out  of  it 
Queen  of  them  all,  I'll  wager. 

Falk. 

Not  a  doubt  of  it. 

GuLDSTAD. 

[Laughing.] 
Young  women  are  odd  creatures,  to  be  sure! 

Falk. 

[Gaily.] 

Like  winter  rve-seed,  canopied  secure 
By  frost  and  snow,  invisibly  they  sprout. 

GuLDSTAD. 

Then  in  the  festive  ball-room  bedded  out— 

Falk. 
With  equivoque  and  scandal  for  manure — 

GuLDSTAD. 

And  when  the  April  sun  shines — 


358  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [acti 

Falk. 

There  the  blade  is; 
The  seed  shot  up  in  mannikin  green  ladies! 

[LiND  comes  up  and  seizes  Falk's  hand. 

LiND. 

How  well  I  chose, — past  understanding  well; — 
I  feel  a  bliss  that  nothing  can  dispel. 

GULDSTAD. 

There  stands  your  mistress;   tell  us,  if  you  can, 
The  right  demeanour  for  a  plighted  man. 

LiND. 

[Perturbed. 1 
That's  a  third  person's  business  to  declare. 

GuLDSTAD. 

[Joking^ 

Ill-tempered !    This  to  Anna's  ears  I'll  bear. 

\Goes  to  the  ladies. 

LiND. 

[Looking  after  him.] 
Can  such  a  man  be  tolerated  ? 

Falk. 

You 
Mistook  his  aim,  however, — 

LiND. 

And  how  so  ? 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  359 

Falk. 
It  was  not  Anna  that  he  had  in  view. 

LiND. 

How,  was  it  Svanhild  ? 

Falk. 

Well,  I  hardly  know. 

[Whimsically. 
Forgive  me,  martyr  to  another's  cause! 

LiND. 

What  do  you  mean  ? 

Falk. 

You've  read  the  news  to-night  ? 

LiND. 

No. 

Falk. 

Do  so.    There  'tis  told  in  black  and  white 
Of  one  who,  ill-luck's  bitter  counsel  taking. 
Had  his  sound  teeth  extracted  from  his  jaws 
Because  his  cousin-german's  teeth  were  aching. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Looking  out  to  the  left.] 
Here  comes  the  priest ! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Now  see  a  man  of  might! 


360  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Stiver. 
Five  children,  six,  seven,  eight — 

Falk. 

And,  heavens,  all  recent! 

Miss  Jay. 

Ugh!    it  is  almost  to  be  called  indecent. 

\A  carriage  has  meantime  been  heard  stopping 
outside  to  the  left.  Strawman,  his  wife,  and 
eight  little  girls,  all  in  travelling  dress,  enter 
one  by  one. 

Mrs,  Halm. 

[Advancing  to  meet  them.] 
Welcome,  a  hearty  welcome! 

Strawman. 

Thank  you. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 


Is  it 


A  party  ? 


Mrs.  Halm. 

No,  dear  madam,  not  at  all. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
If  we  disturb  you — 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Au  contraire,  your  visit 
Could  in  no  wise  more  opportunely  fall. 
My  Anna's  just  engaged. 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  361 

Strawman. 

[Shaking  Anna's  hand  with  unction.] 

Ah  then,  I  must 
Bear  witness; — Lo!  in  wedded  Love's  presented 
A  treasure  such  as  neither  moth  nor  rust 
Corrupt — if  it  be  duly  supplemented. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

But  how  delightful  that  your  little  maids 
Should  follow  you  to  town. 

Strawman. 

Four  tender  blades 
We  have  besides. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Ah,  really  ? 

Strawman. 

Three  of  whom 
Are  still  too  infantine  to  take  to  heart 
A  loving  father's  absence,  when  I  come 
To  town  for  sessions. 

Miss  Jay. 
[To  Mrs.  Halm,  bidding  farewell.] 
Now  I  must  depart 

Mrs.  Halm. 
O,  it  is  still  so  early! 

Miss  Jay. 

I  must  fly 
To  town  and  spread  the  news.    The  Storms,  I  know. 


362  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Go  late  to  rest,  they  will  be  up;   and  oh! 
How  glad  the  aunts  will  be!     Now,  dear,  put  by 
Your  shyness;    for  to-morrow  a  spring-tide 
Of  callers  will  flow  in  from  every  side! 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Well,  then,  good-night.  ^^^  ^^^^  ^^^^^^^^ 

Now  friends,  what  would  you  say 
To  drinking  tea  ? 

[To  Mrs.  Strawman. 

Pray,  madam,  lead  the  way. 

[Mrs.  Halm,  Strawman,  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren, with  GuLDSTAD,  LiND,  and  Anna  go 
into  the  house. 

Miss  Jay. 

{Taking  Stiver's  arm.'] 

Now  let's  be  tender!    Look  how  softly  floats 
Queen  Luna  on  her  throne  o'er  lawn  and  lea! 
Well,  but  you  are  not  looking! 

Stiver. 

\Crossly.] 

Yes,  I  see; 

I'm  thinking  of  the  promissory  notes. 

{They  go  out  to  the  left.  Falk,  %vho  has  been 
continuously  watching  Strawman  and  his 
icife,  remains  behind  alone  in  the  garden. 
It  is  nolo  dark;   the  house  is  lighted  up. 

Falk. 

All  is  as  if  burnt  out;   all  desolate,  dead — ! 
So  thro'  the  world  they  wander,  two  and  two; 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  363 

Charred  wreckage,  like  the  blackened  stems  that 

strew 
The  forest  when  the  withering  fire  is  fled. 
Far  as  the  eye  can  travel,  all  is  drought. 
And  nowhere  peeps  one  spray  of  verdure  out! 

[SvANHiLD  comes  out  on  to  the  verandah  with  a 
Jiowering  rose-tree  which  she  sets  down. 

Yes  one — ^yes  one — ! 

SVANHILD. 

Falk,  in  the  dark  ? 

Falk. 

And  fearless! 
Darkness  to  me  is  fair,  and  light  is  cheerless. 
But  are  not    you    afraid  in  yonder  walls 
Where  the  lamp's  light  on  sallow  corpses  falls — 

SVANHILD. 

Shame ! 

Falk. 

[Looking  after  Strawman,  who  appears  at  the  window. 

He  was  once  so  brilliant  and  so  strong; 
Warred  with  the  world  to  win  his  mistress;    passed 
For  Custom's  doughtiest  iconoclast; 
And  poured  forth  love  in  pseans  of  glad  song — ! 
Look  at  him  now!    In  solemn  robes  and  wraps, 
A  two-legged  drama  on  his  own  collapse! 
And  she,  the  limp-skirt  slattern,  with  the  shoes 
Heel-trodden,  that  squeak  and  clatter  in  her  traces. 
This  is  the  winged  maid  who  was  his  Muse 
And  escort  to  the  kingdom  of  the  graces! 
Of  all  that  fire  this  puff  of  smoke's  the  end! 
Sic  transit  gloria  amoris,  friend. 


364  LOVE'S    COMEDY  [act  i 

SVANHILD. 

Yes,  it  is  wretched,  wretched  past  compare. 
I  know  of  no  one's  lot  that  I  would  share. 

Falk. 

[Eagerly.] 

Then  let  us  two  rise  up  and  bid  defiance 
To  this  same  order  Art,  not  Nature,  bred! 

SVANHILD. 

[Shaking  her  head.] 

Then  were  the  cause  for  which  we  made  alliance 
Ruined,  as  sure  as  this  is  earth  we  tread. 

Falk. 

No,  triumph  waits  upon  two  souls  in  unity. 

To  Custom's  parish-church  no  more  we'll  wend, 

Seatholders  in  the  Philistine  community. 

See,  Personality's  one  aim  and  end 

Is  to  be  independent,  free  and  true. 

In  that  I  am  not  wanting,  nor  are  you. 

A  fiery  spirit  pulses  in  your  veins. 

For  thoughts  that  master,  vou  have  words  that  burn; 

The  corslet  of  convention,  that  constrains 

The  beating  hearts  of  other  maids,  you  spurn. 

The  voice  that  you  were  born  with  will  not  chime  to 

The  chorus  Custom's  baton  gives  the  time  to. 

Svanhild. 

And  do  you  think  pain  has  not  often  pressed 
Tears  from  my  eyes,  and  quiet  from  my  breast  ? 
I  longed  to  shape  my  way  to  my  own  bent — 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  365 

Falk. 
"In  pensive  ease?" 

SVANHILD. 

O  no,  'twas  sternly  meant. 
But  then  the  aunts  came  in  with  well-intended 
Advice,  the  matter  must  be  sifted,  weighed — 

[Coming  nearer. 
"In  pensive  ease,"  you  say;   oh  no,  I  made 
A  bold  experiment — in  art. 

Falk. 

Which  ended—  ? 

SVANHILD. 

In  failure.     I  lacked  talent  for  the  brush. 

The  thirst  for  freedom,  tho',  I  could  not  crush; 

Checked  at  the  easel,  it  essayed  the  stage — 

Falk. 
That  plan  was  shattered  also,  I  engage  ? 

SVANHILD. 

Upon  the  eldest  aunt's  suggestion,  yes; 
She  much  preferred  a  place  as  governess — 

Falk. 
But  of  all  this  I  never  heard  a  word ! 

SVANHILD. 

[Smiling.] 

No  wonder;   they  took  care  that  none  was  heard. 
They  trembled  at  the  risk  "my  future"  ran 
If  this  were  whispered  to  unmarried  Man. 


366  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Falk. 

[After  gazing  a  moment  at  her  in  meditative  sympathy.] 

That  such  must  be  your  lot  I  long  had  guessed. 

When  first  I  met  you,  I  can  well  recall, 

You  seemed  to  me  quite  other  than  the  rest, 

Beyond  the  comprehension  of  them  all. 

They  sat  at  table, — fragrant  tea  a-brewing, 

And  small-talk  humming  with  the  tea  in  tune, 

The  young  girls  blushing  and  the  young  men  cooing. 

Like  pigeons  on  a  sultry  afternoon. 

Old  maids  and  matrons  volubly  averred 

Morality  and  faith's  supreme  felicity, 

Young  wives  were  loud  in  praise  of  domesticity. 

While  you  stood  lonely  like  a  mateless  bird. 

And  when  at  last  the  gabbling  clamour  rose 

To  a  tea-orgy,  a  debauch  of  prose. 

You  seemed  a  piece  of  silver,  newly  minted, 

Among  foul  notes  and  coppers,  dulled  and  dinted. 

You  were  a  coin  imported,  alien,  strange. 

Here  valued  at  another  rate  of  change. 

Not  passing  current  in  that  babel  mart 

Of  poetry  and  butter,  cheese  and  art. 

Then — while  Miss  Jay  in  triumph  took  the  field — 

SVANHILD. 

[Gravely.] 

Her  knight  behind  her,  like  a  champion  bold. 
His  hat  upon  his  elbow,  like  a  shield — 


Talk. 

Your  mother  nodded  to  your  untouched  cup: 
"Drink,  Svanhild  dear,  before  your  tea  grows  « 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY 

And  then  you  drank  the  vapid  liquor  up, 
The  mawkish  brew  beloved  of  young  and  old. 
But  that  name  gripped  me  with  a  sudden  spell; 
The  grim  old  Volsungs  as  they  fought  and  fell. 
With  all  their  faded  aeons,  seemed  to  rise 
In  never-ending  line  before  my  eyes. 
In  you  I  saw  a  Svanhild,  like  the  old/ 
But  fashioned  to  the  modern  age's  mould. 
Sick  of  its  hollow  warfare  is  the  world; 
Its  lying  banner  it  would  fain  have  furled; 
But  when  the  world  does  evil,  its  offence  ' 
Is  blotted  in  the  blood  of  innocence. 

Svanhild. 
[With  gentle  irony.] 

I  think,  at  any  rate,  the  fumes  of  tea 
Must  answer  for  that  direful  fantasy; 
But  'tis  your  least  achievement,  past  dispute. 
To  hear  the  spirit  speaking,  when  'tis  mute.  ' 

Falk. 
[With  emotion. 

Nay,  Svanhild,  do  not  jest:   behind  your  scoff 
Tears  glitter,— O,  I  see  them  plain  enough. 
And  I  see  more:   when  you  to  dust  are  frav'd, 
And  kneaded  to  a  formless  lump  of  clay,  " 
Each  bungling  dilettante's  scalpel-blade  ' 
On  you  his  dull  devices  shall  display. 
The  world  usurps  the  creature  of  God's  hand 
And  sets  its  image  in  the  place  of  His, 
Transforms,  enlarges  that  part,  lightens  this; 
And  when  upon  the  pedestal  you  stand 
'  See  Notes,  page  483. 


367 


368  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Complete,  cries  out  in  triumph:   "Now   she  is 
At  last  what  woman  ought  to  be:   Behold, 
How  plastically  calm,  how  marble-cold! 
Bathed  in  the  lamplight's  soft  irradiation. 
How  well  in  keeping  with  the  decoration!" 

[Passionately  seizing  her  hand. 
But  if  you  are  to  die,  live  first !    Come  forth 
With  me  into  the  glory  of  God's  earth! 
Soon,  soon  the  gilded  cage  will  claim  its  prize. 
The  Lady  thrives  there,  but  the  Woman  dies, 
And  I  love  nothing  but  the  W'oman  in  you. 
There,  if  they  will,  let  others  woo  and  win  you, 
But  here,  my  spring  of  life  began  to  shoot. 
Here  my  Song-tree  put  forth  its  firstling  fruit; 
Here  I  found  wings  and  flight: — Svanhild,  I  know  it. 
Only  be  mine, — here  I  shall  grow  a  poet! 

Svanhild. 
[In  gentle  reproof,  withdravnng  her  hand.] 

O,  why  have  you  betrayed  yourself  ?    How  sweet 
It  was  when  we  as  friends  could  freely  meet! 
You  should  have  kept  your  counsel.    Can  we  stake 
Our  bliss  upon  a  word  that  we  may  break  ? 
Now  you  have  spoken,  all  is  over. 

Falk. 

No! 
I've  pointed  to  the  goal, — now  leap  with  me. 
My  high-souled  Svanhild — if  you  dare,  and  show 
That  you  have  heart  and  courage  to  be  free. 

Svanhild. 
Be  free  ? 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  369 

Falk. 

Yes,  free,  for  freedom's  all-in-all 
Is  absolutely  to  fulfil  our  Call. 
And  you  by  heaven  were  destined,  I  know  well. 
To  be  my  bulwark  against  beauty's  spell. 
I,  like  my  falcon  namesake,  have  to  swing 
Against  the  wind,  if  I  would  reach  the  sky! 
You  are  the  breeze  I  must  be  breasted  by. 
You,  only  you,  put  vigour  in  my  wing: 
Be  mine,  be  mine,  until  the  world  shall  take  you. 
When  leaves  are  falling,  then  our  paths  shall  part. 
Sing  unto  me  the  treasures  of  your  heart. 
And  for  each  song  another  song  I'll  make  you; 
So  may  you  pass  into  the  lamplit  glow 
Of  age,  as  forests  fade  without  a  throe. 

SVANHILD. 

[With  suppressed  bitterness.'] 

I  cannot  thank  you,  for  your  words  betray 
The  meaning  of  your  kind  solicitude. 
You  eye  me  as  a  boy  a  sallow,  good 
To  cut  and  play  the  flute  on  for  a  day. 

Falk. 

Yes,  better  than  to  linger  in  the  swamp 

Till  autumn  choke  it  with  her  grey  mists  damp! 

[Vehemently. 
You  must!   you  shall!    To  me  you  must  present 
What  God  to  you  so  bountifully  lent. 
I  speak  in  song  what  you  in  dreams  have  meant. 
See  yonder  bird  I  innocently  slew. 


370  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Her  warbling  was  Song's  book  of  books  for  you. 
O,  yield  your  music  as  she  yielded  hers! 
My  life  shall  be  that  music  set  to  verse! 

SVANHILD, 

And  when  you  know  me,  when  my  songs  are  flown, 
And  my  last  requiem  chanted  from  the  bough, — 
What  then  ? 

Falk. 
[Observing  her.] 

What  then  ?    Ah  well,  remember  now ! 
[Pointing  to  tJie  garden. 

SVANHILD. 

[Gently^ 
Yes,  I  remember  you  can  drive  a  stone. 

Falk. 
[With  a  scornful  laugh.] 

This  is  your  vaunted  soul  of  freedom  therefore ! 
All  daring,  if  it  had  an  end  to  dare  for! 

[Vehemently. 

I've  shown  you  one;   now,  once  for  all,  your  yea 
Or  nay. 

SVANHILD. 

You  know  the  answer  I  must  make  you: 
I  never  can  accept  you  in  your  way. 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY 


371 


Falk. 
[Coldly,  breaking  off.] 
Then  there's  an  end  of  it;   the  world  may  take  you! 
[SvANHiLD  has  silently  turned  away.    She  sup- 
ports her  hands  upon  the  verandah  railing, 
and  rests  her  head  upon  them. 

Falk. 

[Walks  several  times  up  and  down,  takes  a  dgar, 
stops  near  her  and  says,  after  a  pause: 
You  think  the  topic  of  my  talk  to-night 
Extremely  ludicrous,  I  should  not  wonder? 

[Pauses  for  an  answer.     Svanhild  is  silent. 
I'm  very  conscious  that  it  was  a  blunder; 
Sister's  and  daughter's  love  alone  possess  you; 
Henceforth  I'll  wear  kid  gloves  when  I  address  you, 
Sure,  so,  of  being  understood  aright. 

[Pauses,  but  as  Svanhild  remains  motionless, 
he  turns  and  goes  towards  the  right. 

Svanhild. 

[Lifting  her  head  after  a  brief  silence,  looking  at  him  and 

draiving  nearer.] 
Now  I  will  recompense  your  kind  intent 
To  save  me,  with  an  earnest  admonition. 
That  falcon-image  gave  me  sudden  vision 
What  your  "emancipation"  really  meant. 
You  said  you  were  the  falcon,  that  must  fight 
Athwart  the  wind  if  it  would  reach  the  sky, 
I  was  the  breeze  you  must  be  breasted  by. 
Else  vain  were  all  your  faculty  of  flight; 


372  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

How  pitifully  mean!    How  paltry!    Nay 

How  ludicrous,  as  you  yourself  divined! 

That  seed,  however,  fell  not  by  the  way. 

But  bred  another  fancy  in  my  mind 

Of  a  far  more  illuminating  kind. 

You,  as  I  saw  it,  were  no  falcon,  but 

A  tuneful  dragon,  out  of  paper  cut. 

Whose  Ego  holds  a  secondary  station, 

Dependent  on  the  string  for  animation; 

Its  breast  was  scrawled  with  promises  to  pay 

In  cash  poetic, — at  some  future  day; 

The  wings  were  stiff  with  barbs  and  shafts  of  wit 

That  wildly  beat  the  air,  but  never  hit; 

The  tail  was  a  satiric  rod  in  pickle 

To  castigate  the  town's  infirmities, 

But  all  it  compass'd  was  to  lightly  tickle 

The  casual  doer  of  some  small  amiss. 

So  you  lay  helpless  at  my  feet,  imploring: 

"O  raise  me,  how  and  where  is  all  the  same! 

Give  me  the  power  of  singing  and  of  soaring, 

No  matter  at  what  cost  of  bitter  blame!" 

Falk. 
[Clenching  his  fists  in  inward  agitation.^ 
Heaven  be  my  witness — ! 

SVANHILD. 

No,  you  must  be  told : — 
For  such  a  childish  sport  I  am  too  old. 
But  you,  whom  Nature  made  for  high  endeavour. 
Are  you  content  the  fields  of  air  to  tread 
Hanging  your  poet's  life  upon  a  thread 
That  at  my  pleasure  I  can  slip  and  sever? 


ACT  I]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  373 

Falk. 
[Hurriedly.] 
What  is  the  date  to-day  ? 

SVANHILD. 

[More  gently.] 

Why,  now,  that's  right! 
Mind  well  this  day,  and  heed  it,  and  beware; 
Trust  to  your  own  wings  only  for  your  flight. 
Sure,  if  they  do  not  break,  that  they  will  bear'. 
The  paper  poem  for  the  desk  is  fit, 
That  which  is  lived  alone  has  life  in  it; 
That   only  has  the  wings  that  scale  the  height; 
Choose  now  between  them,  poet:    be,  or  write! 

[Nearer  to  him. 
Now,  I  have  done  what  you  besought  me;   now 
My  requiem  is  chanted  from  the  bough; 
My  only  one;    now  all  my  songs  are  flown; 
Now  if  you  will,  I'm  ready  for  the  stone! 

[She  goes  into  the  house;  Falk  remains  motion- 
less, looking  after  her;  far  out  on  the  fjord  is 
seen  a  boat,  from  which  the  following  chorus 
is  faintly  heard: 

Chorus. 

My  wings  I  open,  my  sails  spread  wide. 
And  cleave  like  an  eagle  life's  glassy  tide; 

Gulls  follow  my  furrow's  foaming; 
Overboard  with  the  ballast  of  care  and  cark; 
And  what  if  I  shatter  my  roaming  bark. 

It  is  passing  sweet  to  be  roaming! 


374  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Falk. 

[Starting  from  a  reverie.] 

What,  music  ?    Ah,  it  will  be  Lind's  quartette 
Getting  their  jubilation  up. — Well  met! 

[To  GuLDSTAD,  who  enters  with  an  overcoat  on 
his  arm. 
Ah,  slipping  off,  sir  ? 

GuLDSTAD. 

Yes,  with  your  goodwill. 
But  let  me  first  put  on  my  overcoat. 
We  prose-folks  are  susceptible  to  chill; 
The  night  wind  takes  us  by  the  tuneless  throat. 
Good  evening! 

Falk. 

Sir,  a  word  ere  you  proceed! 
Show  me  a  task,  a  mighty  one,  you  know — ! 
I'm  goinor  in  for  life — ! 

GuLDSTAD. 

[With  ironical  emphasis.] 

Well,  in  you  go! 
You'll  find  that  you  are  i  n  for  it,  indeed. 

Falk. 

[Looking  reflectively  at  him,  says  slowly.] 

There  is  my  program,  furnished  in  a  phrase. 

[In  a  lively  outburst. 
Now    I  have  wakened  from  my  dreaming  days, 
I've  cast  the  die  of  life's  supreme  transaction, 
I'll  show  you — else  the  devil  take  me — 


ACTi]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  375 

GULDSTAD. 

Fie, 

No  cursing;   curses  never  scared  a  fly. 

Falk. 

Words,  words,  no  more,  but  action,  only  action! 
I  will  reverse  the  plan  of  the  Creation; — 
Six  days  were  lavish'd  in  that  occupation; 
My  world's  still  lying  void  and  desolate, 
Hurrah,  to-morrow,  Sunday — I'll  create! 

GuLDSTAD. 

[Laughing.] 

Yes,  strip,  and  tackle  it  like  a  man,  that's  right! 
But  first  go  in  and  sleep  on  it.    Good-night! 

[Goes  out  to  the  left,    Svanhild  appears  in  the 

room  over  the  verandah;  she  shuts  the  windoia 

and  draws  down  the  blind. 

Falk. 
No,  first  I'll  act.    I've  slept  too  long  and  late. 

[Looks  up  at  Svanhild's  icindow,  and  exclaims, 
as  if  seized  with  a  sudden  resolution: 

Good-night!     Good-night!     Sweet  dreams  to-night 

be  thine; 
To-morrow,  Svanhild,  thou  art  plighted  mine! 

[Goes  out  quickly  to  the  right;  from  the  water 
the  Chorus  is  heard  again. 

Chorus. 

Maybe  I  shall  shatter  my  roaming  bark. 
But  it's  passing  sweet  to  be  roaming! 

[The  boat  slowly  glides  aivay  as  the  curtain  falls. 


ACT  SECOND 

Sunday  afternoon.  Well-dressed  ladies  and  gentlemen  are 
drinking  coffee  on  the  verandah.  Several  of  the 
guests  appear  through  the  open  glass  door  in  the  gar- 
den-room;  the  following  song  is  heard  from  within. 

Chorus. 

Welcome,  welcome,  new  plighted  pair 

To  the  merry  ranks  of  the  plighted! 

Now  you  may  revel  as  free  as  air, 

Caress  without  stint  and  kiss  without  care, — 

No  longer  of  footfall  affrighted. 

Now  you  are  licensed,  wherever  you  go. 
To  the  rapture  of  cooing  and  billing; 
Now  you  have  leisure  love's  seed  to  sow. 
Water,  and  tend  it,  and  make  it  grow; — 
Let  us  see  you've  a  talent  for  tilling! 

Miss  Jay. 

[Within.] 

Ah  Lind,  if  I  only  had  chanced  to  hear, 
I  would  have  teased  you! 

A  Lady. 

[Within.] 

How  vexatious  though! 
376 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  377 

Another  Lady. 
[In  tJie  door ic ay.] 
Dear  Anna,  did  he  ask  in  writing? 

An  Aunt. 


No! 


Mine  did. 


Miss  Jay. 


A  Lady. 

[On  the  verandah.] 

How  long  has  it  been  secret,  dear  ? 

[Runs  i7ito  tiie  room. 

Miss  Jay. 
To-morrow  there  will  be  the  ring  to  choose. 

Ladies. 
[Eager!  I/.] 
We'll  take  his  measure! 

Miss  Jay. 

Nay;  that  she  must  do. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
[On  the  verandah,  to  a  lady  who  is  busy  with  embroidery.] 
What  kind  of  knitting-needles  do  you  use  ? 

A  Servant. 
[In  the  door  with  a  coffee-pot.] 
More  coffee,  madam  ? 


378  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

A  Lady. 

Thanks,  a  drop  or  two. 

Miss  Jay. 

[To  Anna.] 

How  fortunate  you've  got  your  new  manteau 
Next  week  to  go  your  round  of  visits  in! 

An  Elderly  Lady. 
[At  the  tvindow.] 
When  shall  we  go  and  order  the  trousseau  ? 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
How  are  they  selling  cotton-bombasine  ? 

A  Gentleman. 

[To  some  ladies  on  the  verandah.] 

Just  look  at  Lind  and  Anna;   what's  his  sport.' 

Ladies. 
[With  shrill  ecstasy.] 
Gracious,  he  kissed  her  glove! 

Others. 
[Similarly,  springing  up.] 

No!     Kiss'dit?     Really? 

Lind. 

[Appears,  red  and  embarrassed,  in  the  doorivay.] 
O,  stuff  and  nonsense!  [Disappears. 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  379 

Miss  Jay. 

Yes,  I  saw  it  clearly. 

Stiver. 

[In  the  door,  ivith  a  coffee-cup  in  one  hand  and  a  biscuit 

in  the  other.] 

The  witnesses  must  not  mislead  the  court; 
I  here  make  affidavit,  they're  in  error. 

Miss  Jay. 
[Within.] 
Come  forward,  Anna;    stand  before  this  mirror! 

Some  Ladies. 

[Calling.] 
You,  too,  Lind ! 

Miss  Jay. 

Back  to  back!    A  little  nearer! 

Ladies. 

Come,  let  us  see  by  how  much  she  is  short. 

[All  run   into   the   garden-room;    laughter   and 

shrill  talk  are  heard  for  awhile  from  within. 
[Falk,  who  during  the  preceding  scene  has  been 
walking  about  in  the  garden,  advances  into 
the  foreground,  stops  and  looks  in  until  the 
noise  has  somewhat  abated. 

Falk. 

There  love's  romance  is  being  done  to  death.— 
The  butcher  once  who  boggled  at  the  slaughter. 
Prolonging  needlessly  the  ox's  breath,— 


}80  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

He  got  his  twenty  days  of  bread  and  water; 
But  these — these  butchers  yonder — they  go  free. 

[Clenches  his  jist. 
I  could  be  tempted — ;  hold,  words  have  no  worth, 
I've  sworn  it,  action  only  from  henceforth! 

LiND. 

\Co7ning  hastily  hut  cautiously  outi\ 

Thank   God,   they're  talking  fashions;    now's  my 

chance 
To  slip  away — 

Falk. 

Ha,  Lind,  you've  drawn  the  prize 
Of  luck, — congratulations  buzz  and  dance 
All  day  about  you,  like  a  swarm  of  flies. 

Lind. 

They're  all  at  heart  so  kindly  and  so  nice; 
But  rather  fewer  clients  would  suffice. 
Their  helping  hands  begin  to  gall  and  fret  me; 
I'll  get  a  moment's  respite,  if  they'll  let  me. 

[Going  out  to  the  right. 

Falk. 
Whither  away  ? 

Lind. 

Our  den; — it  has  a  lock; 
In  case  you  find  the  oak  is  sported,  knock. 

Falk. 
But  shall  I  not  fetch  Anna  to  you  ? 


ACTiiJ  LOVE'S   COMEDY  381 

LiND. 

No— 
If  she  wants  anything,  she'll  let  me  know. 
Last  night  we  were  discussing  until  late; 
We've  settled  almost  everything  of  weight; 
Besides  I  think  it  scarcely  goes  with  piety 
To  have  too  much  of  one's  beloved's  society. 

Falk. 

Yes,  you  are  right;   for  daily  food  we  need 
A  simple  diet. 

LiND. 

Pray  excuse  me,  friend. 
I  want  a  whiff  of  reason  and  the  weed; 
I  haven't  smoked  for  three  whole  days  on  end. 
My  blood  was  pulsing  in  such  agitation, 
I  trembled  for  rejection  all  the  ti^me— 

Falk. 
Yes,  you  may  well  desire  recuperation — 

LiND. 

And  won't  tobacco's  flavour  be  sublime! 

[Goes  out  to  the  right.    Miss  Jay  and  some  other 
Ladies  come  out  of  the  garden-room. 

Miss  Jay. 
[To  Falk.] 
That  was  he  surelv.' 

Falk. 

Yes,  your  hunted  deer. 


382  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Ladies. 
To  run  away  from  us! 

Others. 

For  shame!    For  shame! 

Falk. 

'Tis  a  bit  shy  at  present,  but,  no  fear, 
A  week  of  servitude  will  make  him  tame. 

Miss  Jay. 
[Looking  round ^ 
Where  is  he  hid  ? 

Falk. 

His  present  hiding-place 
Is  in  the  garden  loft,  our  common  lair;       [Blandly. 

But  let  me  beg  you  not  to  seek  him  there; 
Give  him  a  breathing  time! 

Miss  Jay. 

^Yell,  good :  the  grace 
Will  not  be  long,  tho'. 

Falk. 

Nay,  be  generous! 
Ten  minutes, — then  begin  the  game  again. 
He  has  an  English  sermon  on  the  brain. 

Miss  Jay. 

An  English —  ? 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  333 

Ladies. 
O  you  laugh!    You're  fooling  us! 

Falk. 

Fm  in  grim  earnest.     'Tis  his  fixed  intention 
To  take  a  charge  among  the  emigrants. 
And  therefore — 

Miss  Jay. 
[With  horror] 

Heavens,  he  had  the  face  to  mention 
That  mad  idea?  [To  the  ladies. 

O  quick— fetch  all  the  aunts' 
Anna,  her  mother,  Mrs.  Strawman  too. 

Ladies. 
[Agitated.] 
This  must  be  stopped ! 

All. 

We'll  make  a  great  ado! 

Miss  Jay. 
Thank  God,  they're  coming. 

[To  Anna,  who  comes  from  the  garden-room 
with  Strawman,  his  wife  and  children. 
Stiver,  Guldstad,  Mrs.  Halai  and  the 
other  guests. 

Miss  Jay. 

Do  you  know  what  Lind 
Has  secretly  determined  in  his  mind  ? 
To  go  as  missionary — 


384  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Anna. 

Yes,  I  know. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
And  you've  agreed — ! 

Anna. 
[Embarrassed.] 

That  I  will  also  go. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Indignant.] 
He's  talked  this  stuff  to  you! 

Ladies. 
[Clasping  their  hands  together.] 

What  tyranny! 

Falk. 
But  think,  his  Call  that  would  not  be  denied — ! 

Miss  Jay. 

Tut,  that's  what  people  follow  when  they're  free: 
A  bridegroom  follows  nothing  but  his  bride. — 
No,  my  sweet  Anna,  ponder,  I  entreat: 
You,  reared  in  comfort  from  your  earliest  breath —  ? 

Falk. 
Yet,  sure,  to  suffer  for  the  faith  is  sweet! 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  385 

Miss  Jay. 

Is  one  to  suffer  for  one's  bridegroom's  faith  ? 
That  is  a  rather  novel  point  of  view. 

[To  the  ladies. 

Ladies,  attend!  r^  ?       a         » 

[  Takes  Anna  s  arm. 

Now  listen;    then  repeat 
For  his  instruction  what  he  has  to  do. 

[They  go  into  the  background  and  out  to  the  right 
in  eager  talk  with  several  of  the  ladies;  the 
other  guests  disperse  in  groups  about  the 
garden.  Falk  stops  Strawman,  whose  xcife 
and  children  keep  close  to  him.  Guldstad 
goes  to  and  fro  duri?ig  the  following  conver- 
sation. 

Falk. 

Come,  pastor,  help  young  fervour  in  its  fight, 
Before  they  lure  Miss  Anna  from  her  vows. 

Strawman. 

[In  clerical  cadence.] 

The  wife  must  be  submissive  to  the  spouse; — 

[Reflecting. 
But  if  I  apprehended  him  aright. 
His  Call's  a  problematical  affair, 
The  Offering  altogether  in  the  air — 

Falk. 

Pray  do  not  judge  so  rashly.    I  can  give 

You  absolute  assurance,  as  I  live, 

His  Call  is  definite  and  incontestable — 


386  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Strawman. 
[Seeing  it  in  a  new  light.] 

Ah — if  there's  something  fixed — investable — 
Per    a  n  n  u  m — then  I've  nothing  more  to  say. 

Falk. 
[Impatiently.] 

You  think  the  most  of  what  I  count  the  least; 
I  mean  the    inspiration  , — not  the    pay! 

Strawman. 
[With  an  unctuous  smile.] 

Pay  is  the  first  condition  of  a  priest 

In  Asia,  Africa,  America, 

Or  where  you  will.    Ah  yes,  if  he  were  free, 

My  dear  young  friend,  I  willingly  agree. 

The  thing  might  pass;  but,  being  pledged  and  bound. 

He'll  scarcely  find  the  venture  very  sound. 

Reflect,  he's  young  and  vigorous,  sure  to  found 

A  little  family  in  time;   assume  his  will 

To  be  the  very  best  on  earth — but  still 

The  means,   my  friend —  ?    'Build  not  upon  the 

sand,' 
Says  Scripture.    If,  upon  the  other  hand. 
The  Offering— 

Falk. 

That's  no  trifle,  I'm  aware. 

Strawman. 

Ah,  come — that  wholly  alters  the  affair. 
When  men  are  zealous  in  their  Offering, 
And  liberal — 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  387 

Falk. 
There  he  far  surpasses  most. 

Strawman. 

"  He  "  say  you  ?    How  ?    In  virtue  of  his  post 
The  Offering  is  not  what  he  has  to    bring 
But  what  he  has  to    get. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
[Looking  towards  the  backgroujid.] 

They're  sitting  there. 

Falk. 

[After  staring  a  moment  in  amazement,  suddenly  under- 
stands and  bursts  out  laughing.] 

Hurrah  for  Offerings — the  ones  that  caper 
And  strut — on  Holy-days— in  bulging  paper! 

Strawman. 

All  the  year  round  the  curb  and  bit  we  bear, 

But  Whitsuntide  and  Christmas  make  things  square. 

Falk. 

[Gaily.] 

Why  then,  provided  only  there's  enough  of  it, 
Even  family-founders  will  obey  their  Calls. 

Strawman. 

Of  course;   a  man  assured  the  quaiitum  suff.  of  it 
Will  preach  the  Gospel  to  the  cannibals. 

•fc'  [Sotto  voce. 


88  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Now  I  must  see  if  she  cannot  be  led, 

[To  one  of  the  little  girls. 
My  little  Mattie,  fetch  me  out  my  head — 
My  pipe-head  I  should  say,  my  little  dear — 

[Feels  in  his  coat-tail  'pocket. 
Nay,  wait  a  moment  tho':    I  have  it  here. 

[Goes  across  and  Jills  his  pipe,  followed  by  his 
icife  and  children. 

GULDSTAD. 

[Approaching  .^ 

You  seem  to  play  the  part  of  serpent  in 
This  paradise  of  lovers. 

Falk. 

O,  the  pips 
Upon  the  tree  of  knowledge  are  too  green 
To  be  a  lure  for  anybody's  lips. 

[To  LiND,  ivho  comes  in  from  the  right. 
Ha,  Lind! 

LiND. 

In  Heaven's  name,  who's  been  ravaging 
Our  sanctum .''     There  the  lamp  lies  dashed 
To  pieces,  curtain  dragged  to  floor,  pen  smashed, 
And  on  the  mantelpiece  the  ink  pot  splashed — 

Falk. 
[Clapping  him  on  the  shoulder.] 

This  wreck's  the  first  announcement  of  my  spring; 
No  more  behind  drawn  curtains  I  will  sit. 
Making  pen  poetry  with  lamp  alit; 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY 


389 


My  dull  domestic  poctising's  done, 

I'll  walk  by  day,  and  glory  in  the  sun: 

My  spring  has  come,  my  soul  has  broken  free, 

Action  henceforth  shall  be  my  poetry. 


LlND, 


Make  poetry  of  what  you  please  for  me; 
But  how  if  Mrs.  Halm  should  take  amiss 
Your  breaking  of  her  furniture  to  pieces  ? 


Falk. 

What!— she,  who  lays  her  daughters  and  her  nieces 
Upon  the  altar  of  her  boarders'  bliss,— 
She  frown  at  such  a  bagatelle  as  this! 

LiND. 

[Angrily.] 

It's  utterly  outrageous  and  unfair. 

And  compromises  me  as  well  as  you! 

But  that's  her  business,  settle  it  with  her. 

The  lamp  was  mine,  tho',  shade  and  burner  too— 

Falk. 

Tut,  on  that  head,  I've  no  account  to  render; 
You  have  God's  summer  sunshine  in  its  splendour,— 
What  would  you  with  the  lamp  ? 

LiND. 

You  are  grotesque; 
You  utterly  forget  that  summer  passes; 
If  I'm  to  make  a  figure  in  my  classes 
At  Christmas  I  must  buckle  to  mv  desk. 


390  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Falk. 
[Staring  at  him.] 
What,  you  look    forward  ? 

LiND. 

To  be  sure  I  do. 
The  examination's  amply  worth  it  too. 

Falk. 

Ah  but — you  'only  sit  and  live' — remember! 
Drunk  with  the  moment,  you  demand  no  more — 
Not  even  a  modest  third-class  next  December. 
You've  caught  the  bird  of  Fortune  fair  and  fleet. 
You  feel  as  if  the  world  with  all  its  store 
Were  scattered  in  profusion  at  your  feet. 

LiND. 

Those  were  my  words;   they  must  be  understood. 
Of  course,  cum  grano  sails — 

Falk. 

Very  good ! 

LiND. 

In  the    forenoons    I  will  enjoy  my  bliss; 
That   I  am   quite   resolved   on — 


Falk. 


LiND. 


Daring  man! 


I  have  my  round  of  visits  to  the  clan; 
Time  will  run  anyhow  to  waste  in  this; 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  391 

But  any  further  dislocation  of 

My  study-plan  I  strongly  disapprove. 

Falk, 

A  week  ago,  however,  you  were  bent 

On  going  out  into  God's  world  with  song. 

LiND. 

Yes,  but  I  thought  the  tour  a  little  long; 
The  fourteen  days  might  well  be  better  spent. 

Falk 

Nay,  but  you  had  another  argument 
For  staying;    how  the  lovely  dale  for  you 
Was  mountain  air  and  winged  warble  too. 

LiND. 

Yes,  to  be  sure,  this  air  is  unalloyed; 

But  all  its  benefits  may  be  enjoyed 

Over  one's  book  without  the  slightest  bar. 

Falk. 

But  it  was  just  the   Book   which  failed,  you  see. 
As  Jacob's  ladder — 

LiND. 

How  perverse  you  are: 
That  is  what  people  say  when  they  are   f  r  e  e — 

Falk. 

[Looking  at  him  and  folding  his  hands  in  silent  amaze- 
ment.] 
Thou  also,  Brutus! 


392  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

LiND. 

[With  a  shade  of  confusion  and  annoyance.] 

Pray  remember,  do! 
That  I  have  other  duties  now  than  you; 
I  have  my  fiancee.     Every  pHghted  pair. 
Those  of  prolonged  experience  not  excepted, — 
Whose  evidence  you  would  not  wish  rejected, — 
Will  tell  you,  that  if  two  are  bound  to  fare 
Through  life  together,  they  must — 

Falk. 

Prithee  spare 

The  comment;   who  supplied  it? 

LiND. 

Well,  we'll  say 
Stiver,  he's  honest  surely;    and  Miss  Jay, 
Who  has  such  very  great  experience  here. 
She  says — 

Falk. 

Well,  but  the  Parson  and  his — dear? 

LiND. 

Yes,  they're  remarkable.     There  broods  above 
Them  such  placidity,  such  quietude, — 
Conceive,  she  can't  remember  being  wooed, 
Has  quite  forgotten  what  is  meant  by  love. 

Falk. 

Ah  yes,  when  one  has  slumber'd  over  long, 
The  birds  of  memory  refuse  their  song. 

[Laying  his  hand  on  Lind's  shoulder,  with  an 
ironical  look. 

You,  Lind,  slept  sound  last  night,  I  guarantee  ? 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  393 

LiND. 

And  long.    I  went  to  bed  in  such  depression, 
And  yet  with  such  a  fever  in  my  brain, 
I  almost  doubted  if  I  could  be  sane. 

Falk. 
Ah  yes,  a  sort  of  witchery,  you  see. 

LiND. 

Thank  God  I  woke  in  perfect  self-possession. 

[During  the  foregoing  scene  Strawman  has  been 
seen  from  time  to  time  walking  in  the  back- 
ground in  lively  conversation  with  Anna; 
Mrs.  Strawman  and  the  children  follow. 
Miss  Jay  noiv  appears  also,  and  with  lier 
Mrs.  Halm  and  otJier  ladies. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Before  she  enters.] 
Ah,  Mr.  Lind. 

LiND. 

[To  Falk.] 

They're  after  me  again! 
Come,  let  us  go. 

Miss  Jay. 

Nay,  nay,  you  must  remain. 
Let  us  make  speedy  end  of  the  division 
That  has  crept  in  between  your  love  and  you. 

Lind. 
Are  we  divided  ? 


394  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Miss  Jay. 

[Pointing  to  Anna,  who  is  standing  further  off  in  the 

garden.^ 
Gather  the  decision 
From  yon  red  eyes.    The  foreign  mission  drew 
Those  tears. 

LiND. 

But  heavens,  she  was  glad  to  go — 

Miss  Jay. 

[Scoffing.] 

Yes,  to  be  sure,  one  would  imagine  so! 
No,  my  dear  Lind,  you'll  take  another  view 
When  you  have  heard  the  whole  affair  discussed. 

Lind. 

But  then  this  warfare  for  the  faith,  you  know. 
Is  my  most  cherished  dream! 

Miss  Jay. 

O  who  would  build 

On  dreaming  in  this  century  of  light  ? 
Why,  Stiver  had  a  dream  the  other  night; 
There  came  a  letter  singularly  sealed — 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
It's    treasure    such  a  dream  prognosticates. 

Miss  Jay. 
[Nodding  i\ 

Yes,  and  next  day  they  sued  him  for  the  rates. 

[The  ladies  make  a  circle  round  Lind  and  go  in 
conversation  with  him  into  the  garden. 


ACT  11]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  395 

Strawman. 
[Continuing,  to  Anna,  who  faintly  tries  to  escape.] 

From  these  considerations,  daughter  mine, 
From  these  considerations,  buttressed  all 
With  reason,  morals,  and  the  Word  Divine, 
You  now  perceive  that  to  desert  your  Call 
Were  absolutelv  inexcusable. 

Anna. 
[Half  crying.] 

Oh!     I'm  so  young — 

Strawman. 

And  it  is  natural, 
I  own,  that  one  should  hesitate  to  thrid 
These  perils,  dare  the  snares  that  there  lie  hid; 
From  doubt's  entanglement  you  must  break  free, — 
Be  of  good  cheer  and  follow  Moll  and  me! 

Mrs.  Strawman. 

Yes,  your  dear  mother  tells  me  that  I  too 
Was  just  as  inconsolable  as  you 
When  we  received  our  Call — 

Strawman. 

And  for  like  cause — 
The  fascination  of  the  town — it  was; 
But  when  a  little  money  had  come  in. 
And  the  first  pairs  of  infants,  twin  by  twin. 
She  quite  got  over  it. 


396  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Falk. 
[Sotto  voce  to  Strawman.] 

Bravo,  you  able 
Persuader. 

Strawman. 
[Nodding  to  him  and  turning  again  to  Anna.] 

Now  you've  promised  me,  be  stable. 
Shall  man  renounce  his  work  ?     Falk  says  the  Call 
Is  not  so  very  slender  after  all. 
Did  you  not,  Falk  ? 

Falk. 
Nay,  pastor — 

Strawman. 

To  be  sure — ! 

[To  Anna. 

Of  something  then  at  least  you  are  secure. 

What's  gained  by  giving  up,  if  that  is  so  ? 

Look  back  into  the  ages  long  ago, 

See,  Adam,  Eve — the  Ark,  see,  pair  by  pair. 

Birds  in  the  field — the  lilies  in  the  air. 

The  little  birds^ — the  little  birds — the  fishes — 

[Continues  in  a  loiver  tone,   as  lie   withdraws 
ivith  Anna. 

[Miss  Jay  ayid  the  Aunts  return  with  Lind.] 

Falk. 

Hurrah!     Here  come  the  veterans  in  array; 
The  old  guard  charging  to  retrieve  the  day! 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S    COMEDY  397 

Miss  Jay. 
All,  in  exact  accordance  with  our  wishes!       [Aside. 

We    have    him,  Falk ! — Now  let  us  tackle    her! 

[Approaches  Anna. 

Strawman. 

[With  a  deprecating  motion.] 

She  needs  no  secular  solicitation; 
The  Spirit  has  spoken,  what  can  Earth  bestead — .' 

[Modestbj. 
If  in  some  small  degree  my  words  have  sped. 
Power  was  vouchsafed  me — ! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Come,  no  more  evasion, 
Bring  them  together! 

Aunts. 
[With  emotion.] 

Ah,  how  exquisite! 

Strawman. 

Yes,  can  there  be  a  heart  so  dull  and  dead 
As  not  to  be  entranced  at  such  a  sig-ht! 
It  is  so  thrilling  and  so  penetrating, 
So  lacerating,  so  exhilarating. 
To  see  an  innocent  babe  devoutly  lay 
Its  offering  on  Duty's  altar. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Nay, 
Her  family  have  also  done  their  part. 


398  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Miss  Jay. 

I  and  the  Aunts — I  should  imagine  so. 

You,  Lind,  may  have  the  key  to  Anna's  heart, 

[Presses  his  hand. 
But  we  possess  a  picklock,  you  must  know. 
Able  to  open  where  the  key  avails  not. 
And  if  in  years  to  come,  cares  throng  and  thwart, 
Only  apply  to  us,  our  friendship  fails  not. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Yes,  we  shall  hover  round  you  all  your  life, — 

Miss  Jay. 
And  shield  you  from  the  fiend  of  wedded  strife. 

Strawman. 

Enchanting  group !    Love,  friendship,  hour  of  glad- 
ness, 
Yet  so  pathetically  touched  with  sadness. 

[Turning  to  Lind. 
But  now,  young  man,  pray  make  an  end  of  this. 

[Leading  Anna  to  him. 
Take  thy  betrothed — receive  her — with  a  kiss! 

Lind. 
[Giving  his  hand  to  Anna.] 
I  stay  at  home ! 

Anna. 
[At  the  same  moment.] 
I  go  with  you! 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  399 

Anna. 

[Amazed.] 
You  stay  ? 

LiND. 

[Equally  so.] 

You  go  with  me  ? 
Anna. 
[With  a  helpless  glatice  at  the  company.] 
Why,  then,  we  are  divided  as  before! 

LiND. 

What's  this  ? 

The  Ladies. 
What  now  ? 

Miss  Jay. 
[Excitedly.] 

Our  wills  are  all  at  war — 

Strawman 

She  gave  her  solemn  word  to  cross  the  sea 
With  him! 

Miss  Jay. 

And  he  gave  his  to  slay  ashore 
With  her! 

Falk. 
[Laughing.] 
They  both  complied;  what  would  you  more! 


400  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [actii 

Strawman. 

These  complications  are  too  much  for  me. 

[Goes  towards  the  background. 

Aunts 
[To  one  another.] 
How  in  the  world  came  they  to  disagree  ? 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[To    GuLDSTAD    and   Stiver,    who   have   been  walking 
in  the  garden  and  now  approach.] 

The  spirit  of  discord's  in  possession  here. 

[Talks  aside  to  them. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 

[To  Miss  Jay,  noticing  that  the  table  is  being  laid.] 
There  comes  the  tea. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Curthj.] 

Thank  heaven. 

Falk. 

Hurrah!  a  cheer 

For  love  and  friendship,  maiden  aunts  and  tea! 

Stiver. 

But  if  the  case  stands  thus,  the  whole  proceeding 

May  easily  be  ended  with  a  laugh; 

All  turns  upon  a  single  paragraph, 

Which  bids  the  wife  attend  the  spouse.    No  pleading 

Can  wrest  an  ordinance  so  clearly  stated — 


401 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY 

Miss  Jay. 
Doubtless,  but  does  that  help  us  to  agree  ? 

Strawman. 
She  must  obey  a  law  that  heaven  dictated. 

Stiver. 

But  Lind  cau  circumvent  that  law,  you  see. 

[To  Lind. 
Put  oflF  your  journey,  and  then— budge  no  jot. 

Aunts. 
[Delighted.] 
Yes,  that's  the  way. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Agreed ! 

Miss  Jay. 

That  cuts  the  knot. 
[SvANHiLD  and  the  maids  have  meantime  laid 
the  tea-table  beside  the  verandah  steps.  At 
Mrs.  Halm's  invitation  the  ladies  sit  down. 
Tlie  rest  of  the  company  take  their  places, 
partly  on  the  verandah  and  in  the  summer- 
house,  partly  in  the  garden.  Falk  sits  on  the 
verandah.  During  the  following  scene  thei, 
drink  tea. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[^miling^ 
And  so  our  little  storm  is  overblown. 
Such  summer  showers  do  good  when  they  are  gone; 


402  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

The  sunshine  greets  us  with  a  double  boon. 
And  promises  a  cloudless  afternoon. 

Miss  Jay. 

Ah  yes,  Love's  blossom  without  rainy  skies 
Would  never  thrive  according  to  our  wishes. 

Falk. 

In  dry  land  set  it,  and  it  forthwith  dies; 
For  in  so  far  the  flowers  are  like  the  fishes — 

Svanhild. 
Nay,  for  Love  lives,  you  know,  upon  the  air — 

Miss  Jay. 
Which  is  the  death  of  fishes — 

Falk. 

So  I  say. 

Miss  Jay. 
Aha,  we've  put  a  bridle  on  you  there! 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
The  tea  is  good,  one  knows  by  the  bouquet. 

Falk. 

Well,  let  us  keep  the  simile  you  chose. 

Love  is  a  flower;   for  if  heaven's  blessed  rain 

Fall  short,  it  all  but  pines  to  death—  [Pauses. 

Miss  Jay. 

What  then  ? 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  403 

Falk. 
[With  a  gallant  bow.] 

Then  come  the  aunts  with  the  reviving  hose. — 

But  poets  have  this  simile  employed. 

And  men  for  scores  of  centuries  enjoyed, — 

Yet  hardly  one  its  secret  sense  has  hit; 

For  flowers  are  manifold  and  infinite. 

Say,  then,  what  flower  is  love.?     Name  me,  who 

knows. 
The  flower  most  like  it  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

Why,  it  is  the  rose; 
Good  gracious,  that's  exceedingly  well  known; — 
Love,  all  agree,  lends  life  a  rosy  tone. 

A  Young  Lady. 

It  is  the  snowdrop;    growing,  snow  enfurled; 
Till  it  peer  forth,  undreamt  of  by  the  world. 

An  Aunt. 

It  is  the  dandelion, — made  robust 
By  dint  of  human  heel  and  horse  hoof  thrust; 
Nay,  shooting  forth  afresh  when  it  is  smitten. 
As  Pedersen  so  charmingly  has  written. 

I/IND. 

It  is  the  bluebell, — ringing  in  for  all 
Young  hearts  life's  joyous  Whitsun  festival. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

No,  'tis  an  evergreen, — as  fresh  and  gay 
In  desolate  December  as  in  May. 


404  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

GULDSTAD. 

No,  Iceland  moss,  dry  gathered, — far  the  best 
Cure  for  young  ladies  with  a  wounded  breast. 

A  Gentleman. 

No,  the  wild  chestnut  tree, — in  high  repute 
For  household  fuel,  but  with  a  bitter  fruit. 

SVANHILD. 

No,  a  camelia;   at  our  balls,  'tis  said, 
The  chief  adornment  of  a  lady's  head. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 

No,  it  is  like  a  flower,  O  such  a  bright  one; — 
Stay  now — a  blue  one,  no,  it  was  a  white  one — 
What   i  s   its  name —  ?    Dear  me — the  one  I  met — ; 
Well  it  is  singular  how  I  forget! 

Stiver. 

None  of  these  flower  similitudes  will  run. 
The  flowerp  o  t    is  a  likelier  candidate. 
There's  only  room  in  it,  at  once,  for    one; 
But  by  progressive  stages  it  holds    eight. 

Strawman. 

[With  his  little  girls  round  him.] 

No,  love's  a  pear  tree;    in  the  spring  like  snow 
With  myriad  blossoms,  which  in  summer  grow 
To  pearlets;    in  the  parent's  sap  each  shares; — 
And  with  God's  help  they'll  all  alike  prove  pears. 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  405 

Falk. 

So  many  heads,  so  many  sentences! 
No,  you  all  grope  and  blunder  off  the  line. 
Each  simile's  at  fault;   I'll  tell  you  mine; — 
You're  free  to  turn  and  wrest  it  as  you  please. 

[Rises  as  if  to  make  a  speech. 
In  the  remotest  east  there  grows  a  plant  ;^ 
And  the  sun's  cousin's  garden  is  its  haunt — 

The  Ladies. 
Ah,  it's  the  tea-plant! 

Falk. 

Yes. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 

His  voice  is  so 
Like  Strawman's  when  he — 

Strawman. 

Don't  disturb  his  flow. 

Falk. 

It  has  its  home  in  fabled  lands  serene; 
Thousands  of  miles  of  desert  lie  between; — 
Fill  up,  Lind! — So. — Now  in  a  tea-oration, 
I'll  show  of  tea  and  Love  the  true  relation. 

[The  guests  cluster  round  him. 
It  has  its  home  in  the  romantic  land; 
Alas,  Love's  home  is  also  in  Romance, 
Only  the  Sun's  descendants  understand 
The  herb's  right  cultivation  and  advance. 
*See  Notes,  page  483. 


406  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

With  Love  it  is  not  otherwise  than  so. 
Blood  of  the  Sun  along  the  veins  must  flow 
If  Love  indeed  therein  is  to  strike  root. 
And  burgeon  into  blossom,  into  fruit. 

Miss  Jay. 

But  China  is  an  ancient  land;    you  hold 
In  consequence  that  tea  is  very  old — 

Straw^man. 
Past  question  antecedent  to  Jerusalem. 

Falk. 

Yes,  'twas  already  famous  when  Methusalem 
His  picture-books  and  rattles  tore  and  flung — 

Miss  Jay. 

[  Triumphantly.] 

And  Love  is  in  its  very  nature  young! 
To  find  a  likeness  there  is  pretty  bold. 

Falk. 

No;    Love,  in  truth,  is  also  very  old; 

That  principle  we  here  no  more  dispute 

Than  do  the  folks  of  Rio  or  Bey  rout. 

Nay,  there  are  those  from  Cayenne  to  Caithness, 

Who  stand  upon  its  everlastingness; — 

Well,  that  may  be  a  slight  exaggeration. 

But  old  it  is  beyond  all  estimation. 

Miss  Jay. 

But  Love  is  all  alike;   whereas  we  see 

Both  good  and  bad  and  middling  kinds  of  tea! 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  407 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
Yes,  they  sell  tea  of  many  qualities. 

Anna. 
The  green  spring  shoots  I  count  the  very  first — 

Svanhild. 
Those  serve  to  quench  celestial  daughters'  thirst. 

A  Young  Lady. 
Witching  as  ether  fumes  they  say  it  is — 

Another. 
Balmy  as  lotus,  sweet  as  almond,  clear — 

GULDSTAD. 

That's  not  an  article  we  deal  in  here. 

Falk. 
[Who  has  meanwhile  come  down  from  the  verandah.] 

Ah,  ladies,  every  mortal  has  a  small 

Private  celestial  empire  in  his  heart. 

There  bud  such  shoots  in  thousands,  kept  apart 

By  Shyness's  soon  shatter'd  Chinese  Wall. 

But  in  her  dim  fantastic  temple  bower 

The  little  Chinese  puppet  sits  and  sighs, 

A  dream  of  far-off  wonders  in  her  eyes — 

And  in  her  hand  a  golden  tulip  flower. 

For    her    the  tender  firstling  tendrils  grew; — 

Rich  crop  or  meagre,  what  is  that  to  you  ? 

Instead  of  it  we  get  an  after  crop 

They  kick  the  tree  for,  dust  and  stalk  and  stem, — 

As  hemp  to  silk  beside  what  goes  to  them — 


408  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

GULDSTAD. 

That  is  the  black  tea, 

Falk. 
[Nodding.] 

That's  what  fills  the  shop. 

A  Gentleman. 
There's  beef  tea  too,  that  Holberg  says  a  word  of— 

Miss  Jay. 
[Sharphj.] 
To  modern  taste  entirely  out  of  date. 

Falk. 

And  a   beef    love   has  equally  been  heard  of. 

Wont — in  romances — to  browbeat  its  mate, 

And  still  they  say  its  trace  may  be  detected 

Amongst  the  henpecked  of  the  married  state. 

In  short  there's  likeness  where  'twas  least  expected. 

So,  as  you  know,  an  ancient  proverb  tells, 

That  something  ever  passes  from  the  tea 

Of  the  bouquet  that  lodges  in  its  cells. 

If  it  be  carried  hither  over  sea. 

It  must  across  the  desert  and  the  hills, — 

Pay  toll  to  Cossack  and  to  Russian  tills; — 

It  gets  their  stamp  and  licence,  that's  enough, 

"We  buy  it  as  the  true  and  genuine  stuff. 

But  has  not  Love  the  self-same  path  to  fare  ? 

Across  Life's  desert  ?    How  the  world  would  rave 

And  shriek  if  you  or  I  should  boldly  bear 


409 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY 

Our  Love  by  way  of  Freedom's  ocean  wave! 

I' Good  heavens,  his  moral  savour's  passed  away, 

"And  quite  dispersed  LegaHty's  bouquet!"— 

Strawman. 
[Rising.] 
Yes,  happily,— in  every  moral  land 
Such  wares  continue  to  be  contraband! 

Falk. 

Yes,  to  pass  current  here.  Love  must  have  cross'd 

The  great  Siberian  waste  of  regulations, 

Fann'd  by  no  breath  of  ocean  to  its  cost; 

It  must  produce  official  attestations 

From  friends  and  kindred,  devils  of  relations. 

From  church  curators,  organist  and  clerk. 

And  other  fine  folks— over  and  above 

The  primal  licence  which  God  gave  to  Love.— 

And  then  the  last  great  point  of  likeness;— mark 

How  heavily  the  hand  of  culture  weighs 

Upon  that  far  Celestial  domain; 

Its  power  is  shatter 'd,  and  its  wall  decays. 

The  last  true  Mandarin's  strangled;   hands  profane 

Already  are  put  forth  to  share  the  spoil; 

Soon  the  Sun's  realm  will  be  a  legend  vain, 

An  idle  tale  incredible  to  sense; 

The  world  is  gray  in  gray— we've  flung  tlie  soil 

On  buried  Faery,— we  have  made  her  mound. 

But  if  we  have,— then  where  can  Love  be  found  ? 

Alas,  Love  also  is  departed  hence!       [Lifts  his  cup. 

Well  let  him  go,  since  so  the  times  decree;— 

A  health  to  Amor,  late  of  Earth,— in  tea! 

[He  drains  his  cup;  indignant  murmurs  amongst 
the  company. 


410  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Miss  Jay. 
A  very  odd  expression!    "Dead"  indeed! 

The  Ladies. 
To  say  that  Love  is  dead — ! 

Strawman. 

Why,  here  you  see 
Him  sitting,  rosy,  round  and  sound,  at  tea. 
In  all  conditions!    Here  in  her  sable  weed 
The  widow — 

Miss  Jay. 
Here  a  couple,  true  and  tried, — 

Stiver. 
With  many  ample  pledges  fortified. 

GULDSTAD. 

Then  Love's  light  cavalry,  of  maid  and  man. 
The  plighted  pairs  in  order — 

Strawman. 

In  the  van 
The  veterans,  whose  troth  has  laughed  to  scorn 
The  tooth  of  Time- 
Miss  Jay. 
[Hastily  interrupting.] 

And  then  the  babes  new-born — 
The  little  novices  of  yester-morn — 


ACT  II]  '     LOVE'S   COMEDY  411 

Strawman. 

Spring,  summer,  autumn,  winter,  in  a  word. 
Are  here;  the  truth  is  patent,  past  all  doubt. 
It  can  be  clutched  and  handled,  seen  and  heard, — 

Falk. 
What  then  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

And  yet  you  want  to  thrust  it  out! 

Falk. 

Madam,  you  quite  mistake.     In  all  I  spoke 

I  cast  no  doubt  on  anything  you  claim; 

But  I  would  fain  remind  you  that,  from  smoke. 

We  cannot  logically  argue  flame. 

That  men  are  married,  and  have  children,  I 

Have  no  desire  whatever  to  deny; 

Nor  do  I  dream  of  doubting  that  such  things 

Are  in  the  world  as  troth  and  wedding-rings; 

That  billets-doux  some  tender  hands  indite 

And  seal  with  pairs  of  turtle  doves  that — fight; 

That  sweethearts  swarm  in  cottage  and  in  hall. 

That  chocolate  rewards  the  wedding-call; 

That  usage  and  convention  have  decreed. 

In  every  point,  how  "Lovers"  shall  proceed: — 

But,  heavens!    We've  majors  also  by  the  score. 

Arsenals  heaped  with  muniments  of  war. 

With  spurs  and  howitzers  and  drums  and  shot. 

But  what  does  that  permit  us  to  infer? 

That  we  have  men  who  dangle  swords,  but  not 

That  they  will  wield  the  weapons  that  they  wear. 

Tho'  all  the  plain  with  gleaming  tents  you  crowd. 

Does  that  make  heroes  of  the  men  they  shroud  ? 


412  LO^^E'S   COMEDY     -  [act  n 

Strawman". 

Well,  all  in  moderation;   I  must  o-^n. 

It  is  not  quite  conducive  to  the  truth 

That  we  should  paint  the  enamourment  of  youth 

So  bright,  as  if — ahem — it  stood  alone. 

Love-making  still  a  frail  foundation  is. 

Only  the  snuggery  of  wedded  bliss 

Provides  a  rock  where  Love  may  builded  be 

In  unassailable  security. 

Miss  Jay. 

There  I  entirelv  differ.    In  mv  view, 
A  free  accord  of  lovers,  heart  with  heart, 
Who  hold  together,  having  leave  to  part. 
Gives  the  best  warrant  that  their  love  is  true. 

AXNA. 

[Warmly.] 

O  no — Love's  bond  when  it  is  fresh  and  young 
Is  of  a  stuff  more  precious  and  more  strong. 

LiND. 

[Thoughtfully.] 

Possibly  the  ideal  flower  may  blow. 

Even  as  that  snowdrop, — hidden  by  the  snow. 

Falk. 

[With  a  gvdden  oiUburgt.] 

You  fallen  Adam!    There  a  heart  was  cleft 
With  longing  for  the  Eden  it  has  left  I 


Acxn]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  413 

LiXD. 

What  stuff! 

Mks.  Haij^. 
[OJ^nd/^,  to  Falk.  n\v{ng.] 

'Tis  not  a  verr  friendlv  act 
To  stir  a  quarrel  where  we've  made  a  peace. 
As  for  vour  friend's  j^xhI  fortune,  be  at  ease — 


Some  Ladies. 
Nay  that's  assured — 

Others. 

A  very  certain  fact. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

The  cooking-class  at  school.  I  must  confess. 
She  did  not  take;   but  she  shall  learn  it  still. 

Miss  Jay. 
With  her  own  hands  she's  trimming  hex  own  dre>ss. 

Ax  ArxT. 
[Patting  Anna's  ^<i.nJ.] 
And  growing  exquisitely  sensible. 

Faix. 

[Lamghirig  ahuii.] 

O  parody  of  sense,  that  ri>'Te'S  and  ivnds 
In  maniac  dance  upon  tlie  lips  of  friends! 
Was  it  gootl  sense  he  wanted .-    Or  a  she- 
Professor  of  tlie  lore  of  Cookerv  ^ 


414  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  n 

A  joyous  son  of  springtime  he  came  here, 
For  the  wild  rosebud  on  the  bush  he  burned. 
You  reared  the  rosebud  for  him;   he  returned— 
And  for  his  rose  found  what  ?    The  hip ! 

Miss  Jay. 

[Offended.] 

You  jeer! 

Falk. 

A  useful  household  condiment,  heaven  knows! 
But  yet  the  hip  was  not  his  bridal  rose. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

0,  if  it  is  a  ball-room  queen  he  wants, 
I'm  very  sorry;    these  are  not  their  haunts. 

Falk. 

O  yes,  I  know  the  pretty  coquetry 

They  carry  on  with  "Domesticity." 

It  is  a  suckling  of  the  mighty  Lie 

That,  like  hop-tendrils,  spreads  itself  on  high. 

1,  madam,  reverently  bare  my  head 

To  the  ball  queen;   a  child  of  beauty  she— 
And  the  ideal's  golden  woof  is  spread 
In  ball-rooms,  hardly  in  the  nursery. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[With  suppressed  bitterness.] 

Your  conduct,  sir,  is  easily  explained; 
A  plighted  lover  cannot  be  a  friend; 
That  is  the  kernel  of  the  whole  affair; 
I  have  a  very  large  experience  there. 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  415 

Falk. 
No  doubt, — with  seven  nieces,  each  a  wife — 

Mrs.  Halm. 
And  each  a  happy  wife — 

Falk. 
[With  emphasis.] 

Ah,  do  we  know  ? 


How! 


guldstad. 

Miss  Jay. 
Mr.  Falk! 

LiND. 

Are  you  resolved  to  sow 
Dissension  ? 

Falk. 

[Vehemently.] 
Yes,  war,  discord,  turmoil,  strife! 

Stiver. 
What  you,  a  lay,  profane  outsider  here! 

Falk. 

No  matter,  still  the  battle-flag  I'll  rear! 
Yes,  it  is  war  I  mean  with  nail  and  tooth 
Against  the  Lie  with  the  tenacious  root, 
The  lie  that  you  have  fostered  into  fruit, 
For  all  its  strutting  in  the  guise  of  truth! 


416  '    LOVE'S   COMEDY  [actii 

Stiver. 

Against  these  groundless  charges  I  protest, 
Reserving  right  of  action — 

Miss  Jay. 

Do  be  still! 

Falk. 

So  then  it  is  Love's  ever-running  rill 

That  tells  the  widow  what  she  once  possess'd, — 

That  very  Love  that,  in  the  days  gone  by, 

Out  of  her  language  blotted  "moan"  and  "sigh"! 

So  then  it  is  Love's  brimming  tide  that  rolls 

Along  the  placid  veins  of  wedded  souls, — 

That  very  Love  that  faced  the  iron  sleet, 

Trampling  inane  Convention  under  feet. 

And  scoffing  at  the  impotent  discreet! 

So  then  it  is  Love's  beauty-kindled  flame 

That  keeps  the  plighted  from  the  taint  of  time 

Year  after  year!    Ah  yes,  the  very  same 

That  made  our  young  bureaucrat  blaze  in  ryhme! 

So  it  is  Love's  young  bliss  that  will  not  brave 

The  voyage  over  vaulted  Ocean's  wave. 

But  asks  a  sacrifice  when,  like  the  sun. 

Its  face  should  fill  with  glory,    making    one ! 

Ah  no,  you  vulgar  prophets  of  the  Lie, 

Give  things  the  names  we  ought  to  know  them  by; 

Call  widows'  passion— wanting  what  they  miss, 

And  wedlock's    habit  — call  it  what  it  is ! 

Strawman. 

Young  man,  this  insolence  has  gone  too  far! 
In  every  word  there's  scoffing  and  defiance. 

[Goes  close  up  to  Falk. 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  417 

Now  I'll  gird  up  my  aged  loins  to  war 

For  hallowed  custom  against  modern  science! 

Falk. 
I  go  to  battle  as  it  were  a  feast! 

Strawman. 

Good !    For  your  bullets  I  will  be  a  beacon : — 

[Nearer. 
A  wedded  pair  is  holy,  like  a  priest — 

Stiver. 
[At  Falk's  other  side.] 
And  a  betrothed — 

Falk. 

Half-holy,  like  the  deacon. 

Strawman. 

Behold  these  children; — see, — this  little  throng! 
lo  triumphe  may  for  them  be  sung! 
How  was  it  possible — how  practicable — ; 
The  words  of  truth  are  strong,  inexorable; — 
He  has  no  hearing  whom  they  cannot  move. 
See, — every  one  of  them's  a  child  of  Love — ! 

[Stops  in  confusion. 
That  is — you  understand — I  would  have  said — ! 

Miss  Jay. 
[Fanning  herself  loith  her  handkerchief.] 
This  is  a  very  mystical  oration! 


418  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Falk. 

There  you  yourself  provide  the  demonstration, — 

A  good  old  Norse  one,  sound,  true-born,  home-bred. 

You  draw  distinction  between  wedded  pledges 

And  those  of  Love:   your  Logic's  without  flaw. 

They  are  distinguished  just  as  roast  from  raw. 

As  hothouse  bloom  from  wilding  of  the  hedges! 

Love  is  with  us  a  science  and  an  art; 

It  long  since  ceased  to  animate  the  heart. 

Love  is  with  us  a  trade,  a  special  line 

Of  business,  with  its  union,  code  and  sign; 

It  is  a  guild  of  married  folks  and  plighted. 

Past-masters  with  apprentices  united; 

For  they  cohere  compact  as  jelly-fishes, 

A  singing-club  their  single  want  and  wish  is — 


And  a  gazette! 


GULDSTAD. 


Falk. 


A  good  suggestion,  yes! 
We  too  must  have  our  organ  in  the  press. 
Like  ladies,  athletes,  boys,  and  devotees. 
Don't  ask  the  price  at  present,  if  you  please. 
There  I'll  parade  each  amatory  fetter 
That  John  and  Thomas  to  our  town  unites, 
There  publish  every  pink  and  perfumed  letter 
That  William  to  his  tender  Jane  indites; 
There  you  shall  read,  among  "Distressing  Scenes" — 
Instead  of  murders  and  burnt  crinolines. 
The  broken  matches  that  the  week's  afforded; 
There  under  "goods  for  sale"  you'll  find  what  firms 
Will  furnish  cast-off  rings  on  easy  terms; 
There  double,  treble  births  will  be  recorded; 


ACTii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY 


419 


No  wedding,  but  our  rallying  rub-a-dub 
Shall  drum  to  the  performance  all  the  club; 
No  suit  rejected,  but  we'll  set  it  down. 
In  letters  large,  with  other  news  of  weight 
Thus:    "Amor-Moloch,  we  regret  to  state. 
Has  claimed  another  victim  in  our  town." 
You'll  see,  we'll  catch  subscribers:    once  in  sight 
Of  the  propitious  season  when  they  bite. 
By  way  of  throwing  them  the  bait  they'll  brook 
I'll  stick  a  nice  young  man  upon  my  hook. 
Yes,  you  will  see  me  battle  for  our  cause. 
With  tiger's,  nay  with  editorial,  claws 
Rending  them — 

GULDSTAD. 

And  the  paper's  name  will  be—  ? 

Falk. 
Amor's  Norse  Chronicle  of  Archery. 

Stiver. 
[Going  nearer.] 
You're  not  in  earnest,  you  will  never  stake 
Your  name  and  fame  for  such  a  fancv's  sake' 

Falk. 

I'm  in  grim  earnest.     We  are  often  told 

Men  cannot  live  on  love;   I'll  show  that  this 

Is  an  untenable  hypothesis; 

For  Love  will  prove  to  be  a  mine  of  gold : 

Particularly  if  Miss  Jay,  perhaps. 

Will  Mr.  Strawman's  "Life's  Romance"  unfold, 

As  appetising  feuilleton,  in  scraps. 


420  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [actii 

Strawman. 
[In  terror.] 


Merciful  heaven!     My   "life's  romance"!     What, 

what ! 
When  was  my  life  romantic,  if  you  please  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

I  never  said  so. 

Stiver. 
Witness  disagrees. 

Strawman. 

That  I  have  ever  swerved  a  single  jot 
From  social  prescript, — is  a  monstrous  lie. 

Falk. 
Good. 

[Clapping  Stiver  on  the  shoulder. 

Here's  a  friend  who  will  not  be  put  by. 
We'll  start  with  Stiver's  lyric  ecstasies. 

Stiver. 
[After  a  glance  of  horror  at  Strawman.] 

Are  you  quite  mad!    Nay  then  I  must  be  heard! 
You  dare  accuse  me  for  a  poet — 

Miss  Jay. 

How—! 

Falk. 
Your  office  has  averred  it  anyhow. 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  421 

Stiver. 
[In  towering  anger.] 
Sir,  by  our  office  nothing  is  averred. 

Falk. 

Well,  leave  me  then,  you  also:   I  have  by  me 
One  comrade  yet  whose  loyalty  will  last. 
"A  true  heart's  story"  Lind  will  not  deny  me. 
Whose  troth's  too  tender  for  the  ocean  blast, 
Who  for  his  mistress  makes  surrender  of 
His  fellow-men — pure  quintessence  of  Love! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

My  patience,  Mr.  Falk,  is  now  worn  out. 
The  same  abode  no  longer  can  receive  us: — 
I  beg  of  you  this  very  day  to  leave  us — 

Falk. 
[With  a  how  as  Mrs.  Halm  and  the  company  withdraw. 1 
That  this  would  come  I  never  had  a  doubt! 

Strawman. 

Between  us  two  there's  battle  to  the  death; 
You've  slandered  me,  my  wife,  my  little  flock. 
From  Mollie  down  to  Millie,  in  one  breath. 
Crow  on,  crow  on — Emancipation's  cock, — 

[Goes  in,  followed  hy  his  wife  and  children. 

Falk. 

And  go  you  on  observing  Peter's  faith 

To  Love  your  lord — who,  thanks  to  your  advice. 

Was  thrice  denied  before  the  cock  crew  thrice! 


422  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Miss  Jay. 

[  Turning  faint.] 

Attend  me,  Stiver!  help  me  get  unlaced 

My  corset — this  way,  this  way — do  make  haste! 

Stiver. 
[To  Falk,  as  he  withdraws  with  Miss  Jay  on  his  arm.] 
I  here  renounce  your  friendship. 


I  likewise. 


LiND. 

Falk. 
[Seriously.] 

You  too,  my  Lind  ? 

LiND. 

Farewell. 

Falk. 

You  were  my  nearest  one — 

Lind. 

No  help,  it  is  the  pleasure  of  my  dearest  one. 

[He  goes  in:   Svanhild  has  remained  standing 
on  the  verandah  steps. 

Falk. 

So,  now  I've  made  a  clearance,  have  free  course 
In  all  directions! 

Svanhild. 
Falk,  one  word  with  you! 


ACTiiJ  LOVE'S   COMEDY  423 

Falk. 

[Pointing  politely  to  the  house.] 

That  way,  Miss  Halm; — that  way,  with  all  the  force 
Of  aunts  and  inmates,  Mrs.  Halm  withdrew. 

SVANHILD. 

[Nearer  to  him.] 

Let  them  withdraw;   their  ways  and  mine  divide; 
I  will  not  swell  the  number  of  their  band. 

Falk. 
You'll  stay  ? 

SVANHILD. 

If  you  make  war  on  lies,  I  stand 
A  trusty  armour-bearer  by  your  side, 

Falk. 
You,  Svanhild,  you  who — 

SVANHILD. 

I,  who — yesterday — ? 
Were  you  yourself,  Falk,  yesterday  the  same  ? 
You  bade  me  be  a  sallow,  for  your  play, 

Falk. 

And  a  sweet  sallow  sang  me  into  shame. 
No,  you  are  right;  I  was  a  child  to  ask; 
But  you  have  fired  me  to  a  nobler  task. 
Right  in  the  midst  of  men  the  Church  is  founded 


424  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Where  Truth's  appealing  clarion  must  be  sounded 
We  are  not  called,  like  demigods,  to  gaze  on 
The  battle  from  the  far-off  mountain's  crest, 
But  in  our  hearts  to  bear  our  fiery  blazon. 
An  Olaf's  cross  upon  a  mailed  breast, — 
To  look  afar  across  the  fields  of  flight, 
Tho'  pent  within  the  mazes  of  its  might, — 
Beyond  the  mirk  descry  one  glimmer  still 
Of  glory — that's  the  Call  we  must  fulfil. 

SVANHILD. 

And  you'll  fulfil  it  when  you  break  from  men, 
Stand  free,  alone, — 

Falk. 

Did  I  frequent  them  then? 
And  there  lies  duty.     No,  that  time's  gone  by, — 
My  solitary  compact  with  the  sky. 
My  four- wall-chamber  poetry  is  done; 
My  verse  shall  live  in  forest  and  in  field, 
I'll  fight  under  the  splendour  of  the  sun; — 
I  or  the  Lie — one  of  us  two  must  yield! 

SVANHILD. 

Then  forth  with  God  from  Verse  to  Derringdoe! 
I  did  you  wrong:   you  have  a  feeling  heart; 
Forgive  me, — and  as  good  friends  let  us  part — 

Falk. 

Nay,  in  my  future  there  is  room  for  two! 
We  part  not.     Svanhild,  if  you  dare  decide, 
We'll  battle  on  together  side  by  side. 


ACT  II]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  425 

SVANHILD. 

We  battle? 

Falk. 

See,  I  have  no  friend,  no  mate. 
By  all  abandoned,  I  make  war  on  all: 
At  me  they  aim  the  piercing  shafts  of  hate; 
Say,  do  you  dare  with  me  to  stand  or  fall  ? 
Henceforth  along  the  beaten  walks  I'll  move 
Heedful  of  each  constraining  etiquette; 
Spread,  like  the  rest  of  men,  my  board,  and  set 
The  ring  upon  the  finger  of  my  love! 

[Takes  a  ring  from  his  finger  and  holds  it  up. 

SVANHILD. 

[In  breathless  suspense.] 
You  mean    that  ? 

Falk. 

Yes,  by  us  the  world  shall  see, 
Love  has  an  everlasting  energy. 
That  suffers  not  its  splendour  to  take  hurt 
From  the  day's  dust,  the  common  highway's  dirt. 
Last  night  I  showed  you  the  ideal  flame, 
Beaconing  from  a  dizzy  mountain's  brow. 
You  shuddered,  for  you  were  a  woman, — now 
I  show  you  woman's  veritable  aim; — 
A  soul  like  yours,  what  it  has  vowed,  will  keep. 
You  see  the  abyss  before  you. — Svanhild,  leap! 

SVANHILD. 

[Almost  inaudibly.] 
If  we  should  fail — ! 


426  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Falk. 
[Exidting .] 

No,  in  your  eyes  I  see 
A  gleam  that  surely  prophesies  our  winning! 

SVANHILD. 

Then  take  me  as  I  am,  take  all  of  me! 

Now  buds  the  young  leaf;    now  my  spring's  begin- 
ning! 
[She  flings  herself  boldly  into  his  arms  as  the 
curtain  falls. 


ACT  THIRD 

Evening.  Bright  moonlight.  Coloured  lanterns  are  hung 
about  the  trees,  hi  the  background  are  covered  tables 
li'ith  bottles,  glasses,  biscuits,  etc.  From  the  house, 
ichich  is  lighted  wp  from  top  to  bottom,  subdued 
music  and  singing  are  heard  during  the  following 
scene.  Svaxhild  stands  on  the  verandah.  Falk 
comes  from  the  right  with  some  books  and  a  portfolio 
under  his  arm.  The  Porter  follows  ivith  a  port- 
manteau a?id  a  knapsack. 

Falk. 
That's  all,  then  ? 

Porter. 

Yes,  sir,  all  is  in  the  pack. 
But  just  a  satchel,  and  the  paletot. 

Falk. 

Good;   when  I  go,  I'll  take  them  on  my  back. 
Now  off.    See,  this  is  the  portfolio. 

Porter. 
It's  locked,  I  see. 

Falk. 

Locked,  Peter. 
427 


428  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

Porter, 


Talk. 
Make  haste  and  burn  it. 


Good,  sir. 

Pray, 


Porter. 

Burn  it? 

Falk. 

Yes,  to  ash — 

[Smilitig. 

With  every  draft  upon  poetic  cash; 

As  for  the  books,  you're  welcome  to  them. 

Porter. 

Nay, 

Such  payment  is  above  a  poor  man's  earning. 
But,  sir,  I'm  thinking,  if  you  can  bestow 
Your  books,  you  must  have  done  with  all  your 


learning  ? 


Falk. 


Whatever  can  be  learnt  from  books  I  know. 
And  rather  more. 

Porter. 

More  ?     Nay,  that's  hard,  I  doubt! 

Falk. 

W^ell,  now  be  off;    the  carriers  wait  without. 
Just  help  them  load  the  barrow  ere  you  go. 

[The  Porter  goes  out  to  tJie  left. 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  429 

Falk. 
[Approaching  Svanhild,  ivho  comes  to  meet  him.] 

One  moment's  ours,  my  Svanhild,  in  the  Hght 

Of  God  and  of  the  lustrous  summer  night. 

How  the  stars  glitter  thro'  the  leafage,  see, 

Like  bright  fruit  hanging  on  the  great  world-tree. 

Now  slavery's  last  manacle  I  slip. 

Now  for  the  last  time  feel  the  weaHng  whip; 

Like  Israel  at  the  Passover  I  stand. 

Loins  girded  for  the  desert,  staff  in  hand. 

Dull  generation,  from  whose  sight  is  hid 

The  Promised  Land  beyond  that  desert  flight. 

Thrall  tricked  with  knighthood,  never  the  more 

knight. 
Tomb  thyself  kinglike  in  the  Pyramid, — 
I  cross  the  barren  desert  to  be  free. 
My  ship  strides  on  despite  an  ebbing  sea; 
But  there  the  Legion  Lie  shall  find  its  doom. 
And  glut  one  deep,  dark,  hollow-vaulted  tomb. 

[A  short  pause;  lie  looks  at  Jier  aiid  takes  Jier  hand. 
You  are  so  still! 

Svanhild, 

So  happy!    Suffer  me, 
O  suffer  me  in  silence  still  to  dream. 
Speak  you  for  me;    my  budding  thoughts,  grown 

strong, 
One  after  one  will  burgeon  into  song. 
Like  lilies  in  the  bosom  of  the  stream. 

Falk. 

O  say  it  once  again,  in  truth's  pure  tone 
Beyond  the  fear  of  doubt,  that  thou  art  mine! 
O  say  it,  Svanhild,  say — 


430  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

SVANHILD. 

[Throwing  herself  on  his  neck.] 

Yes,  I  am  thine! 

Falk. 
Thou  singing-bird  God  sent  me  for  my  own! 

SVANHILD. 

Homeless  within  my  mother's  house  I  dwelt, 

Lonely  in  all  I  thought,  in  all  I  felt, 

A  guest  unbidden  at  the  feast  of  mirth, — 

Accounted  nothing — less  than  nothing — worth. 

Then  you  appeared !     For  the  first  time  I  heard 

My  own  thought  uttered  in  another's  word; 

To  my  lame  visions  you  gave  wings  and  feet — 

You  young  unmasker  of  the  Obsolete! 

Half  with  your  caustic  keenness  you  alarmed  me. 

Half  with  your  radiant  eloquence  you  charmed  me, 

As  sea-girt  forests  summon  with  their  spell 

The  sea  their  flinty  beaches  still  repel. 

Now  I  have  read  the  bottom  of  your  soul, 

Now  you  have  won  me,  undivided,  whole; 

Dear  forest,  where  my  tossing  billows  beat. 

My  tide's  at  flood  and  never  will  retreat! 

Falk. 

And  I  thank  God  that  in  the  bath  of  Pain 

He  purged  my  love.    What  strong  compulsion  drew 

Me  on  I  knew  not,  till  I  saw  in  you 

The  treasure  I  had  blindly  sought  in  vain. 

I  praise  Him,  who  our  love  has  lifted  thus 

To  noble  rank  by  sorrow, — licensed  us 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  431 

To  a  triumphal  progress,  bade  us  sweep 
Thro'  fen  and  forest  to  our  castle-keep, 
A  noble  pair,  astride  on  Pegasus! 

SVANHILD. 

[Pointing  to  the  house.] 

The  whole  house,  see,  is  making  feast  to-night. 
There,  in  their  honour,  every  room's  alight. 
There  cheerful  talk  and  joyous  song  ring  out; 
On  the  highroad  no  passer-by  will  doubt 
That  men  are  happy  where  they  are  so  gay. 

[With  compassion. 
Poor  sister! — happy  in  the  great  world's  way! 

Falk. 
"Poor"  sister,  sav  you.'' 

SVANHILD. 

Has  she  not  divided 
With  kith  and  kin  the  treasure  of  her  soul. 
Her  capital  to  fifty  hands  confided. 
So  that  not  one  is  debtor  for  the  whole? 
From  no  one  has  she   a  1 1   things  to  receive. 
For  no  one  has  she  utterly  to  live. 

0  beside   m  y   wealth  hers  is  little  worth; 

1  have  but  one  possession  upon  earth. 

My  heart  was  lordless  when  with  trumpet  blare 
And  multitudinous  song  you  came,  its  king. 
The  banners  of  my  thought  your  ensign  bear. 
You  fill  my  soul  with  glory,  like  the  spring. 
Yes,  I  must  needs  thank  God,  when  it  is  past. 
That  I  was  lonely  till  I  found  out  thee, — 
That  I  lay  dead  until  the  trumpet  blast 
Waken'd  me  from  the  world's  frivolity. 


432  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

Falk. 

Yes  we,  who  have  no  friends  on  earth,  we  twain 
Own  the  true  wealth,  the  golden  fortune, — we 
Who  stand  without,  beside  the  starlit  sea. 
And  watch  the  indoor  revel  thro'  the  pane. 
Let  the  lamp  glitter  and  the  song  resound. 
Let  the  dance  madly  eddy  round  and  round; — 
Look  up,  my  Svanhild,  into  yon  deep  blue, — 
There  glitter  little  lamps  in  thousands,  too — 

Svanhild, 

And  hark,  beloved,  thro'  the  limes  there  floats 
This  balmy  eve  a  chorus  of  sweet  notes — 

Falk. 
It  is  for  us  that  fretted  vault's  aglow — 

Svanhild. 
It  is  for  us  the  vale  is  loud  below! 

Falk. 

I  feel  myself  like  God's  lost  prodigal; 
I  left  Him  for  the  world's  delusive  charms. 
With  mild  reproof  He  wooed  me  to  His  arms; 
And  when  I  come.  He  lights  the  vaulted  hall, 
Prepares  a  banquet  for  the  son  restored. 
And  makes  His  noblest  creature  my  reward. 
From  this  time  forth  I'll  never  leave  that  Light, — 
But  stand  its  armed  defender  in  the  fight; 
Nothing  shall  part  us,  and  our  life  shall  prove 
A  song  of  glory  to  triumphant  love ! 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  433 

SVANHILD. 

And  see  how  easy  triumph  is  for  two, 
When  he's  a  man — 

Falk. 

She,  woman  thro' and  thro'; — 
It  is  impossible  for  such  to  fall ! 

SVANHILD. 

Then  up,  and  to  the  war  with  want  and  sorrow; 
This  very  hour  I  will  declare  it  all! 

[Pointing  to  Falk's  ring  on  herfiiiger 

Falk. 
[Hastily.'] 

No,  Svanhild,  not  to-night,  wait  till  to-morrow! 
To-night  we  gather  our  young  love's  red  rose; 
'Twere  sacrilege  to  smirch  it  with  the  prose 
Of  common  day. 

[The  door  into  the  garden-room  opens. 
Your  mother's  coming!    Hide! 
No  eye  this  night  shall  see  thee  as  my  bride ! 

[Theij  go  out  among  the  trees  hy  the  summer- 
house.  Mrs.  Halm  and  Guldstad  come  out 
on  tJie  balcony. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
He's  really  going  } 

Guldstad. 

Seems  so,  I  admit. 


434  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

Stiver. 
[Coming.] 

He's  going,  madam ! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

We're  aware  of  it! 

Stiver. 

A  most  unfortunate  punctilio. 
He'll  keep  his  word;   his  stubbornness  I  know. 
In  the  Gazette  he'll  put  us  all  by  name; 
]My  love  will  figure  under  leaded  headings, 
\Yith  jilts,  and  twins,  and  countermanded  wed- 
dings. 
Listen;   I  tell  you,  if  it  weren't  for  shame, 
I  would  propose  an  armistice,  a  truce — 

Mrs.  Halm. 

You  think  he  would  be  willing  ? 

Stiver. 

I  deduce 
The  fact  from  certain  signs,  which  indicate 
That  his  tall  talk  about  his  Amor's  News 
Was  uttered  in  a  far  from  sober  state. 
One  proof  especially,  if  not  transcendent, 
Yet  tells  most  heavily  against  defendant: 
It  has  been  clearly  proved  that  after  dinner 
To  his  and  Lind's  joint  chamber  he  withdrew. 
And  there  displayed  such  singular  demeanour 
As  leaves  no  question — 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S  COMEDY  435 

GULDSTAD. 

[Sees  a  glimpse  of  Falk  and  Svanhild,  who  separate, 
Falk  going  to  the  background;  Svanhild  remains 
standing  hidden  by  the  summer-house.] 

Hold,  we  have  the  clue! 
Madam,  one  word!— Falk  does  not  mean  to  go. 
Or  if  he  does,  he  means  it  as  a  friend. 

Stiver. 
How,  you  believe  then —  ? 

Mrs.  Halm. 

What  do  you  intend  ? 

GuLDSTAD. 

With  the  least  possible  delay  I'll  show 
That  matters  move  precisely  as  you  would. 
Merely  a  word  in  private — 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Very  good. 
[They  go  together  into  the  garden  and  are  seen 
from  time  to  time  in  lively  conversation. 

Stiver. 

[Descending    into    the    garden  discovers   Falk,    who  is 
standing  by  the  water  and  gazing  over  it.] 
These  poets  are  mere  men  of  vengeance,  we 
State  servants  understand  diplomacy. 
I  need  to  labour  for  myself — 

[Seeing  Strawman,  who  enters  from  the  garden- 
room. 

Well  met! 


436  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

Strawman. 
[On  tJie  verandah.] 

He's  really  leaving! 

[Going  down  to  Stiver. 

Ah,  my  dear  sir,  let 
Me  beg  you  just  a  moment  to  go  in 
And  hold  my  wife — 

Stiver. 

I — hold  her,  sir? 


Strawman. 


I  mean 


In  talk.     The  little  ones  and  we  are  so 
Unused  to  be  divided,  there  is  no 
Escaping — 

[His  wife  and  children  appear  in  the  door. 
Ha!   already  on  my  trail. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
Where  are  you,  Strawman  ? 

Strawman. 

[^Aside  to  Stiver.] 

Do  invent  some  tale. 
Something  amusing — something  to  beguile! 

Stiver. 

[Going  on  to  the  verandali.] 

Pray,  madam,  have  you  read  the  official  charge? 
A  masterpiece  of  literary  style. 

[Takes  a  book  from  his  pocket. 


ACTiii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  437 

Which  I  shall  now  proceed  to  cite  at  large. 

[Ushers  her  politely  into  the  room,  and  folloivs 
himself.  Falk  comes  forward;  he  and  Straw- 
man  meet;  they  regard  one  another  a  moment 
in  silence. 


Well? 

Well? 


Strawman. 

Falk. 

Strawman. 
Falk! 


Falk. 
Pastor! 

Strawman. 

Are  you  less 
Intractable  than  when  we  parted  ? 

Falk 

Nay, 
I  go  my  own  inexorable  way — 

Strawman. 
Even  tho'  you  crush  another's  happiness  ? 

Falk. 

I  plant  the  flower  of  knowledge  in  its  place. 

[Smiling. 
If,  by  the  way,  you  have  not  ceased  to  think 
Of  the  Gazette — 


438  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

Strawman. 
Ah,  that  was  all  a  joke  ? 

Falk. 

Yes,  pluck  up  courage,  that  will  turn  to  smoke; 
I  break  the  ice  in  action,  not  in  ink. 

Strawman. 

But  even  though  you  spare  me,  sure  enough 
There's  one  who  won't  so  lightly  let  me  off; 
He  has  the  advantage,  and  he  won't  forego  it, 
That  lawyer's  clerk — and  'tis  to  you  I  owe  it; 
You  raked  the  ashes  of  our  faded  flames. 
And  you  may  take  your  oath  he  won't  be  still 
If  once  I  mutter  but  a  syllable 
Against  the  brazen  bluster  of  his  claims. 
These  civil-service  gentlemen,  they  say. 
Are  very  potent  in  the  press  to-day. 
A  trumpery  paragraph  can  lay  me  low. 
Once  printed  in  that  Samson-like  Gazette 
That  with  the  jaw  of  asses  fells  its  foe, 
And  runs  away  with  tackle  and  with  net. 
Especially  towards  the  quarter  day — ■ 

Falk. 
[Acquiescing.] 
Ah,  were  there  scandal  in  the  case,  indeed — 

Strawman. 

[Despondently.] 

No  matter.    Read  its  columns  with  good  heed, 
You'll  see  me  offered  up  to  Vengeance. 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  439 

Falk. 

[Whimsically.] 

Nay, 
To  retribution— well-earned  punishment. 
Thro'  all  our  life  there  runs  a  Nemesis, 
Which  may  delay,  but  never  will  relent, 
And  grants  to  none  exception  or  release. 
Who  wrongs  the  Ideal  ?    Straight  there  rushes  in 
The  Press,  its  guardian  with  the  Argus  eye. 
And  the  offender  suffers  for  his  sin. 

Strawman. 
But  in  the  name  of  heaven,  what  pledge  have  I 
Given  this  "Ideal"  that's  ever  on  your  tongue? 
I'm  married,  have  a  family,  twelve  young 
And  helpless  innocents  to  clothe  and  keep; 
I  have  my  daily  calls  on  every  side, 
Churches  remote  and  glebe  and  pasture  wide, 
Great  herds  of  breeding  cattle,  ghostly  sheep — 
All  to  be  watched  and  cared  for,  dipt  and  fed. 
Grain  to  be  winnowed,  compost  to  be  spread; — 
Wanted  all  day  in  shippon  and  in  stall. 
What  time  have  /  to  serve  the  "Ideal"  withal.? 

Falk. 

Then  get  you  home  with  what  dispatch  you  may. 
Creep  snugly  in  before  the  winter-cold; 
Look,  in  young  Norway  dawns  at  last  the  day. 
Thousand  brave  hearts  are  in  its  ranks  enroll'd. 
Its  banners  in  the  morning  breezes  play! 

Strawman. 
And  if,  young  man,  I  were  to  take  my  way 
With  bag  and  baggage  home,  with  everything 


440  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iir 

That  made  me  yesterday  a  little  king, 
Were  mine  the  only  volte  face  to-day? 
Think  you  I  carry  back  the  wealth  I  brought  ? 

\As  Falk  is  about  to  answer. 

Nay,  listen,  let  me  first  explain  my  thought. 

\Coming  nearer. 
Time  was  when  I  was  young,  like  you,  and  played 
Like  you,  the  unconquerable  Titan's  part; 
Year  after  year  I  toiled  and  moiled  for  bread, 
Which  hardens  a  man's  hand,  but  not  his  heart. 
For  northern  fells  my  lonely  home  surrounded, 
And  by  my  parish  bounds  my  world  was  bounded. 
My  home — Ah,  Falk,  I  wonder,  do  you  know 
What  home  is  ? 

Falk. 
[Ciirthj.] 
I  have  never  known. 

Strawman. 

Just  so. 

That  is  a  home,  where  five  may  dwell  with  ease, 

Tho'  two  would  be  a  crowd,  if  enemies. 

That  is  a  home,  where  all  your  thoughts  play  free 

As  boys  and  girls  about  their  father's  knee. 

Where  speech  no  sooner  touches  heart,  than  tongue 

Darts  back  an  answering  harmony  of  song; 

Where  you  may  grow  from  flax-haired  snowy-polled. 

And  not  a  soul  take  note  that  you  grow  old; 

Where  memories  grow  fairer  as  they  fade, 

Like  far  blue  peaks  beyond  the  forest  glade. 

Falk 
[TFi7/t  constrained  sarcasm.] 
Come,  you  grow  warm — 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  441 

Strawman. 

Where  you  but  jeered  and  flouted. 
So  utterly  unlike  God  made  us  two! 
I'm  bare  of  that  he  lavished  upon  you. 
But  I  have  won  the  game  where  you  were  routed. 
Seen  from  the  clouds,  full  many  a  wayside  grain 
Of  truth  seems  empty  chaff  and  husks.    You'd  soar 
To  heaven,  I  scarcely  reach  the  stable  door. 
One  bird's  an  eagle  born — 

Falk. 

And  one  a  hen. 

Strawman. 

Yes,  laugh  away,  and  say  it  be  so,  grant 
I  am  a  hen.     There  clusters  to  my  cluck 
A  crowd  of  little  chickens, — which  you  want! 
And  I've  the  hen's  high  spirit  and  her  pluck. 
And  for  my  little  ones  forget  myself. 
You  think  me  dull,  I  know  it.    Possibly 
You  pass  a  harsher  judgment  yet,  decree 
Me  over  covetous  of  worldly  pelf. 
Good,  on  that  head  we  will  not  disagree. 

[Seizes  Falk's  arm  and  continues  in  a  low  tone 
hut  ivith  gathering  vehemence. 
You're  right,  I'm  dull  and  dense  and  grasping,  yes; 
But  grasping  for  my  God-given  babes  and  wife, 
And  dense  from  struggling  blindly  for  bare  life, 
And  dull  from  sailing  seas  of  loneliness. 
Just  when  the  pinnace  of  my  youthful  dream 
Into  the  everlasting  deep  went  down, 
Another  started  from  the  ocean  stream 
Borne  with  a  fair  wind  onward  to  life's  crown. 


442  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

For  every  dream  that  vanished  in  the  wave, 

For  every  buoyant  plume  that  broke  asunder, 

God  sent  me  in  return  a  Httle  Wonder, 

And  gratefully  I  took  the  good  He  gave. 

For  them  I  strove,  for  them  amassed,  annexed, — 

For  them,  for  them,  explained  the  Holy  text; 

My  clustering  girls,  my  garden  of  delight! 

On  them  you've  poured  the  venom  of  your  spite! 

You've  proved,  v/ith  all  the  cunning  of  the  schools, 

My  bliss  was  but  the  paradise  of  fools, 

That  all  I  took  for  earnest  was  a  jest; — 

Now  I  implore,  give  me  my  quiet  breast 

Again,  the  jQawless  peace  of  mind  I  had — 

Falk. 
Prove,  in  a  word,  your  title  to  be  glad  ? 

Strawman. 

Yes,  in  my  path  you've  cast  the  stone  of  doubt. 
And  nobody  but  you  can  cast  it  out. 
Between  my  kin  and  me  you've  set  a  bar, — 
Remove  the  bar,  the  strangling  noose  undo — 

Falk. 

You  possibly  believe  I  keep  the  glue 
Of  lies  for  Happiness's  broken  jar? 

Strawman. 

I  do  believe,  the  faith  your  reasons  tore 
To  shreds,  your  reasons  may  again  restore; 
The  limb  that  you  have  shatter'd,  you  can  set; 
Reverse  your  judgment, — the  whole  truth  unfold, 
Restate  the  case — I'll  fly  my  banner  yet — 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  443 

Falk. 
[Haughtily.] 

I  stamp  no  copper  Happiness  as  gold. 

Strawman. 
[Looking  fixedly  at  him.] 

Remember  then  that,  lately,  one  whose  scent 
For  truth  is  of  the  keenest  told  us  this : 

[With  uplifted  finger. 

"There  runs  through  all  our  life  a  Nemesis, 
Which  may  delay,  but  never  will  relent." 

[He  goes  towards  the  house. 

Stiver. 
[Coming  out  with  glasses  on,  and  an  open  book  in  his 

ha7id.] 

Pastor,  you  must  come  flying  like  the  blast! 
Your  girls  are  sobbing — 

The  Children. 
[In  the  doorway.] 
Pa! 

Stiver. 

And  Madam  waiting ! 

[Strawman  goes  in. 
This  lady  has  no  talent  for  debating. 

[Puts  the  hook  and  glasses  in  his  pocket,  and 
approaches  Falk. 
Falk! 

Falk. 
Yes! 


444  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

Stiver. 
I  hope  you've  changed  your  mind  at  last  ? 

Falk. 
Whv  so  ? 

Stiver. 

For  obvious  reasons.    To  betray 
Communications  made  in  confidence. 
Is  conduct  utterly  without  defence. 
They  must  not  pass  the  lips. 

Falk. 

No,  I've  heard  say 
It  is  at  times  a  risky  game  to  play. 

Stiver. 
The  very  devil! 

Falk. 

Only  for  the  great. 

Stiver. 

[Zealously.] 

No,  no,  for  all  us  servants  of  the  state. 
Only  imagine  how  my  future  chances 
Would  dwindle,  if  the  governor  once  knew 
I  keep  a  Pegasus  that  neighs  and  prances 
In  office  hours — and  such  an  office,  too! 
From  first  to  last,  you  know,  in  our  profession. 
The  winged  horse  is  viewed  with  reprobation: 
But  worst  of  all  would  be,  if  it  got  wind 
That  I  against  our  primal  law  had  sinn'd 
By  bringing  secret  matters  to  the  light — 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  445 

Falk. 
That's  penal,  is  it — such  an  oversight  ? 

Stiver. 

[Mysterio  usbj.] 

It  can  a  servant  of  the  state  compel 
To  beg  for  his  dismissal  out  of  hand. 
On  us  officials  lies  a  strict  command, 
Even  by  the  hearth  to  be  inscrutable. 

Falk. 

O  those  despotical  authorities, 

Muzzling  the — clerk  that  treadeth  out  the  grain! 

Stiver. 

[Shrugging  his  shoulders i\ 

It  is  the  law;   to  murmur  is  in  vain. 

Moreover,  at  a  moment  such  as  this. 

When  salary  revision  is  in  train. 

It  is  not  well  to  advertise  one's  views 

Of  office  time's  true  function  and  right  use. 

That's  why  I  beg  you  to  be  silent;    look, 

A  word  may  forfeit  my — 

Falk. 

Portfolio  ? 

Stiver. 

Officially  it's  called  a  transcript  book; 
A  protocol's  the  clasp  upon  the  veil  of  snow 
That  shrouds  the  modest  breast  of  the  Bureau. 
What  lies  beneath  you  must  not  seek  to  know. 


446  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

Falk. 

And  yet  I  only  spoke  at  your  desire; 
You  hinted  at  your  literary  crop. 

Stiver. 

How  should  I  guess  he'd  grovel  in  the  mire 
So  deep,  this  parson  perch'd  on  fortune's  top, 
A  man  with  snug  appointments,  children,  wife. 
And  money  to  defy  the  ills  of  life .' 
If  such  a  man  prove  such  a  Philistine, 
What  shall  of  us  poor  copyists  be  said  ? 
Of  me,  who  drive  the  quill  and  rule  the  line, 
A  man  engaged  and  shortly  to  be  wed. 
With  family  in  prospect — and  so  forth.? 

[More  vehemently. 
O,  if  I  only  had  a  well-lined  berth, 
I'd  bind  the  armour 'd  helmet  on  my  head, 
And  cry  defiance  to  united  earth! 
And  were  I  only  unengaged  like  you. 
Trust  me,  I'd  break  a  road  athwart  the  snow 
Of  Prose,  and  carry  the  Ideal  through! 

Falk. 
To  work  then,  man! 

Stiver. 
How? 

Falk. 

You  may  still  do  so! 
Let  the  world's  prudish  owl  unheeded  flutter  by; 
Freedom  converts  the  grub  into  a  butterfly! 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  447 

Stiver. 
[Steppitig  hack.] 
You  mean,  to  break  the  engagement —  ? 

Falk. 

That's  my  mind; — 
The  fruit  is  gone,  why  keep  the  empty  rind  ? 

Stiver. 

Such  a  proposal's  for  a  green  young  shoot, 

Not  for  a  man  of  judgment  and  repute. 

I  heed  not  what  King  Christian  in  his  time 

(The  Fifth)  laid  down  about  engagements  broken- 

off; 
For  that  relationship  is  nowhere  spoken  of 
In  any  rubric  of  the  code  of  crime. 
The  act  would  not  be  criminal  in  name, 
It  would  in  no  way  violate  the  laws — 

Falk. 
Why  there,  you  see  then ! 

Stiver. 

[Firmly.] 

Yes,  but  all  the  same, — 
I  must  reject  all  pleas  in  such  a  cause. 
Staunch  comrades  we  have  been  in  times  of  dearth; 
Of  life's  disport  she  asks  but  little  share. 
And  I'm  a  homely  fellow,  long  aware 
God  made  me  for  the  ledger  and  the  hearth. 
Let  others  emulate  the  eagle's  flight. 
Life  in  the  lowly  plains  may  be  as  bright. 


448  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

What  does  his  Excellency  Goethe  say 
About  the  white  and  shining  milky  way  ? 
Man  may  not  there  the  milk  of  fortune  skim. 
Nor  is  the  butter  of  it  meant  for  him. 

Falk. 

Why,  even  were  fortune-churning  our  life's  goal. 
The  labour  must  be  guided  by  the  soul; — 
Be  citizens  of  the  time  that  is — but  then 
Make  the  time  worthy  of  the  citizen. 
In  homely  things  lurks  beauty,  without  doubt, 
But  watchful  eye  and  brain  must  draw  it  out. 
Not  every  man  who  loves  the  soil  he  turns 
May  therefore  claim  to  be  another  Burns. 

Stiver. 

Then  let  us  each  our  proper  path  pursue, 
And  part  in  peace;    we  shall  not  hamper  you; 
We  keep  the  road,  you  hover  in  the  sky. 
There  where  we  too  once  floated,  she  and  I. 
But  work,  not  song,  provides  our  daily  bread. 
And  when  a  man's  alive,  his  music's  dead. 
A  voung:  man's  life's  a  lawsuit,  and  the  most 
Superfluous  litigation  in  existence: 
Withdraw,  make  terms,  abandon  all  resistance: 
Plead  where  and  how  you  will,  your  suit  is  lost. 

Falk. 

[Bold  and  confident,  with  a  glance  at  the  summer-house.] 

Nay,  tho'  I  took  it  to  the  highest  place, — 
Judgment,  I  know,  would  be  reversed  by  grace! 
I  know  two  hearts  can  live  a  life  complete, 


ACTiii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  449 

With  hope  still  ardent,  and  with  faith  still  sweet; 
You  preach  the  wretched  gospel  of  the  hour, 
That  the  Ideal  is  secondary! 

Stiver. 

No! 
It's  primary:   appointed,  like  the  flower. 
To  generate  the  fruit,  and  then  to  go. 

[Indoors,  Miss  Jay  plays  and  sings:  "In  the 
Gloaming."  Stiver  stands  listening  in  silent 
emotion. 

With  the  same  melody  she  calls  me  yet 

Which  thrilled  me  to  the  heart  when  first  we  met. 

[Lays  his  hand  on  Falk's  arm  and  gazes  in- 
tently at  him. 

Oft  as  she  wakens  those  pathetic  notes. 
From  the  w^hite  keys  reverberating  floats 
An  echo  of  the  "yes"  that  made  her  mine. 
And  when  our  passions  shall  one  day  decline. 
To  live  again  as  friendship,  to  the  last 
That  song  shall  link  that  present  to  this  past. 
And  what  tho'  at  the  desk  my  back  grow  round, 
And  my  day's  work  a  battle  for  mere  bread, 
Yet  joy  will  lead  me  homeward,  where  the  dead 
Enchantment  will  be  born  again  in  sound. 
If  one  poor  bit  of  evening  we  can  claim, 
I  shall  come  off  undamaged  from  the  game! 

[He  goes  into  the  house.  Falk  turns  toicards 
the  summer-house.  Svanhild  comes  out,  she 
is  pale  and  agitated.  They  gaze  at  each  other 
in  silence  a  moment,  and  fling  themselves 
impetuously  into  each  other's  arms. 


450  LOVE'S  COMEDY  [act  iii 

Talk. 

O,  Svanhild,  let  us  battle  side  by  side! 

Thou  fresh  glad  blossom  flowering  by  the  tomb, — 

See  what  the  life  is  that  they  call  youth's  bloom! 

There's  coffin-stench  of  bridegroom  and  of  bride; 

There's  coffin-stench  wherever  two  go  by 

At  the  street  corner,  smiling  outwardly. 

With  falsehood's  reeking  sepulchre  beneath. 

And  in  their  blood  the  apathy  of  death. 

And  this  they  think  is  living!    Heaven  and  earth, 

Is  such  a  load  so  many  antics  worth  ? 

For  such  an  end  to  haul  up  babes  in  shoals. 

To  pamper  them  with  honesty  and  reason, 

To  feed  them  fat  with  faith  one  sorry  season. 

For  service,  after  killing-day,  as  souls  ? 

Svanhild. 
Falk,  let  us  travel !  \ 

Falk. 

Travel  ?    Whither,  then  ? 
Is  not  the  whole  world  everywhere  the  same  ? 
And  does  not  Truth's  own  mirror  in  its  frame 
Lie  equally  to  all  the  sons  of  men  ? 
No,  we  will  stay  and  watch  the  merry  game, 
The  conjurer's  trick,  the  tragi-comedy 
Of  liars  that  are  dupes  of  their  own  lie; 
Stiver  and  Lind,  the  Parson  and  his  dame. 
See  them, — prize  oxen  harness'd  to  love's  yoke,. 
And  yet  at  bottom  very  decent  folk! 
Each  wears  for  others  and  himself  a  mask. 
Yet  one  too  innocent  to  take  to  task; 
Each  one,  a  stranded  sailor  on  a  wreck, 
Counts  himself  happy  as  the  gods  in  heaven; 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  451 

Each  his  own  hand  from  Paradise  has  driven, 
Then,  splash!  into  the  sulphur  to  the  neck! 
But  none  has  any  inkling  where  he  lies, 
Each  thinks  himself  a  knight  of  Paradise, 
And  each  sits  smiling  between  howl  and  howl; 
And  if  the  Fiend  come  by  with  jeer  and  growl, 
With   horns,  and  hoofs,  and   things  yet   more  ab- 
horred,— 
Then  each  man  jogs  the  neighbour  at  his  jowl : 
"  Off  with  your  hat,  man !    See,  there  goes  the  Lord ! " 

SVANHILD. 

[After  a  brief,  thoughtful  silence.] 

How  marvellous  a  love  my  steps  has  led 

To  this  sweet  trysting  place !    My  life  that  sped 

In  frolic  and  fantastic  visions  gay, 

Henceforth  shall  grow  one  ceaseless  working  day! 

O  God!  I  wandered  groping, — all  was  dim: 

Thou  gavest  me  light — and  I  discovered    him! 

[Gazing  at  Falk  in  love  and  wonder. 
Whence  is  that  strength  of  thine,  thou  mighty  tree 
That  stand 'st  unshaken  in  the  wind-wrecked  wood, 
That  stand 'st  alone,  and  yet  canst  shelter  me—? 

Falk. 
God's  truth,  my  Svanhild; — that  gives  fortitude. 

SVANHILD, 

[With  a  shy  glance  towards  the  house.] 

They  came  like  tempters,  evilly  inclined. 
Each  spokesman  for  his  half  of  humankind, 
One  asking:    How  can  true  love  reach  its  goal 
When  riches'  leaden  weight  subdues  the  soul  ? 


452  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [actiii 

The  other  asking:    How  can  true  love  speed 
When  Hfe's  a  battle  to  the  death  with  Need  ? 

0  horrible! — to  bid  the  world  receive 
That  teaching  as  the  truth,  and  yet  to  live! 

Falk. 
How  if  'twere  meant  for  us  ? 

SVANHILD. 

For  us  ? — What,  then  ? 
Can  outward  faith  control  the  wills  of  men  ? 

1  have  already  said:    if  thou'lt  stand  fast, 
I'll  dare  and  suffer  by  thee  to  the  last. 
How  light  to  listen  to  the  gospel's  voice. 

To  leave  one's  home  behind,  to  weep,  rejoice, 
And  take  with  God  the  husband  of  one's  choice! 

Falk. 
[Embracing  her.] 

Come  then,  and  blow  thy  worst,  thou  winter  weather! 
We  stand  unshaken,  for  we  stand  together! 

[Mrs.  Halm  and  Guldstad  come  in  from  the 
right  in  the  background. 

Guldstad. 
[Aside.] 
Observe ! 

[Falk  and  Svanhild  remain  standing  bij  the 
summer-house. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
[Surprised.] 

Together! 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  453 

GULDSTAD. 

Do  you  doubt  it  now  ? 

Mrs.  Halm. 

This  is  most  singular. 

GuLDSTAD. 

O,  I've  noted  how 
His  work  of  late  absorb'd  his  interest. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[To  herself.] 

Who  would  have  fancied  Svanhild  was  so  sly  ? 

[Vivaciously  to  Guldstad. 
But  no — I  can't  think. 

Guldstad. 

Put  it  to  the  test. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Now,  on  the  spot  ? 

Guldstad. 

Yes,  and  decisively! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[Giving  him  her  hand.] 

God's  blessing  with  you ! 

Guldstad. 
[Gravely.] 

Thanks,  it  may  bestead. 
[Comes  to  the  front. 


454  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[Looking  back  as  she  goes  towards  the  house.] 

Whichever  way  it  goes,  my  child  is  sped. 

[Goes  in. 

GULDSTAD. 

[Approaching  Falk.] 
It's  late,  I  think  ? 

Falk. 
Ten  minutes  and  I  go. 

GuLDSTAD. 

Sufficient  for  my  purpose. 

SVANHILD. 

[Going.] 

Farewell. 


Remain. 


GuLDSTAD. 

No, 

SVANHILD. 

Shall  I  ? 

GULDSTAD. 

Until  you've  answered  me. 
It's  time  we  squared  accounts.    It's  time  we  three 
Talked  out  for  once  together  from  the  heart. 

Falk. 

[Taken  aback.] 
We  three  ? 


ACT  ml  LOVE'S   COMEDY  455 

GULDSTAD. 

Yes,— all  disguises  flung  apart. 

Falk. 

[Suppressing  a  smile.] 

O,  at  your  service. 

GuLDSTAD. 

Very  good,  then  hear. 
We've  been  acquainted  now  for  half  a  year; 
We've  wrangled — 

Falk. 
Yes. 

GuLDSTAD. 

We've  been  in  constant  feud ; 
We've  changed  hard  blows  enough.    You  fought— 

alone — 
For  a  sublime  ideal;   I  as  one 
Among  the  money-grubbing  multitude. 
And  yet  it  seemed  as  if  a  chord  united 
Us  two,  as  if  a  thousand  thoughts  that  lay 
Deep  in  my  own  youth's  memory  benighted 
Had  started  at  your  bidding  into  day. 
Yes,  I  amaze  you.    But  this  hair  grey-sprinkled 
Once  fluttered  brown  in  spring-time,  and  this  brow, 
Which  daily  occupation  moistens  now 
With  sweat  of  labour,  was  not  always  wrinkled. 
Enough;   I  am  a  man  of  business,  hence — 

Falk. 
[With  gentle  sarcasm.] 
You  are  the  type  of  practical  good  sense. 


456  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

GULDSTAD. 

And  you  are  hope's  own  singer  young  and  fain. 

[Stepping  between  them. 
Just  therefore,  Falk  and  Svanhild,  I  am  here. 
Now  let  us  talk,  then;   for  the  hour  is  near ' 
Which  brings  good  hap  or  sorrow  in  its  train. 

Falk. 

[In  suspense.] 
Speak, then! 

GuLDSTAD. 

[Smiling.] 

My  ground  is,  as  I  said  last  night, 
A  kind  of  poetry — 

Falk. 

In  practice. 

GuLDSTAD. 

[Nodding  sloivly.] 

Right! 

Falk. 
And  if  one  asked  the  source  from  which  you  drew —  ? 

GuLDSTAD. 

[Glancing  a  moment  at  Svanhild,  and  then  turning  again 

to  Falk.] 

A  common  source  discovered  by  us  two. 

Svanhild. 
Now  I  must  go. 


ACTiii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  457 

GULDSTAD. 

No,  wait  till  I  conclude. 
I  should  not  ask  so  much  of  others.     You, 
Svanhild,  I've  learnt  to  fathom  thro'  and  thro'; 
You  are  too  sensible  to  play  the  prude. 
I  watched  expand,  unfold,  your  little  life; 
A  perfect  woman  I  divined  within  you. 
But  long  I  only  saw  a  daughter  in  you; — 
Now  I  ask  of  you — will  you  be  my  wife  ? 

[Svanhild  draws  back  in  embarrassment. 

Falk. 

[Seizing  his  arm.] 
Hold! 

GuLDSTAD. 

Patience;   she  must  answer.    Put  your  own 
Question; — then  her  decision  will  be  free. 

Falk. 
I — do  you  say  ? 

GuLDSTAD. 

[Looking  steadily  at  him.] 

The  happiness  of  three 
Lives  is  at  stake  to-day, — not  mine  alone. 
Don't  fancy  it  concerns  you  less  than  me; 
For  tho'  base  matter  is  my  chosen  sphere, 
Yet  nature  made  me  something  of  a  seer. 
Yes,  Falk,  you  love  her.     Gladly,  I  confess, 
I  saw  your  young  love  bursting  into  flower. 
But  this  young  passion,  with  its  lawless  power, 
iSIay  be  the  ruin  of  her  happiness. 


458  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  in 

Falk. 
[Firing  up.] 
You  have  the  face  to  say  so  ? 

GULDSTAD. 

[Quietly.] 


Years  give  right. 


Say  now  you  won  her- 


Falk. 

[Defiantly.] 

And  what  then? 

GuLDSTAD. 

[Slowly  and  emphatically.] 

Yes,  say 

She  ventured  in  one  bottom  to  embark 
Her   all,  her  all  upon  one  card  to  play, — 
And  then  life's  tempest  swept  the  ship  away. 
And  the  flower  faded  as  the  day  grew  dark  ? 

Falk. 

[Involuntarily.] 
She  must  not! 

Guldstad. 

[Lookiiig  at  him  loith  meaning.] 

Hm.    So  I  myself  decided 
When  I  was  young,  like  you.    In  days  of  old 
I  was  afire  for  one.     Our  paths  divided. 
Last  night  we  met  again; — the  fire  was  cold. 


ACT  ml  LOVE'S   COMEDY  459 

Falk. 
Last  night  ? 

GULDSTAD. 

Last  night.     You  know  the  parson's  dame — 

Falk. 
What?     It  was  she,  then,  who— 

GULDSTAD. 

Who  lit  the  flame. 
Long  I  remembered  her  with  keen  regret, 
And  still  in  my  remembrance  she  arose 
As  the  young  lovely  woman  that  she  was 
When  in  life's  buoyant  spring-time  first  we  met. 
And  that  same  foolish  fire  you  now  are  fain 
To  light,  that  game  of  hazard  you  would  dare. 
See,  that  is  why  I  call  to  you— beware! 
The  game  is  perilous!    Pause,  and  think  again! 

Falk. 

No,  to  the  whole  tea-caucus  I  declared 
My  fixed  and  unassailable  belief — 

GuLDSTAD. 

[Com'pletiiig  his  sentence.] 

That  heartfelt  love  can  weather  unimpaired 
Custom,  and  Poverty,  and  Age,  and  Grief. 
Well,  say  it  be  so;   possibly  you're  right; 
But  see  the  matter  in  another  light. 
What  love   is,  no  man  ever  told  us— whence 
It  issues,  that  ecstatic  confidence 


460  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

That  one  life  may  fulfil  itself  in  two, — 
To  this  no  mortal  ever  found  the  clue. 
But  marriage   is  a  practical  concern. 
As  also  is  betrothal,  my  good  sir — 
And  by  experience  easily  we  learn 
That  we  are  fitted  just  for   her,   or   her. 
But  love,  you  know,  goes  blindly  to  its  fate, 
Chooses  a  woman,  not  a  wife,  for  mate; 
And  what  if  now  this  chosen  v/oman  was 
No  wife  for  you —  ? 

Falk. 
[In  suspense.] 
Well  ? 

GULDSTAD. 

[Shrugging  his  shoulders.'] 

Then  you've  lost  your  cause. 
To  make  a  happy  bridegroom  and  a  bride 
Demands  not  love  alone,  but  much  beside. 
Relations  one  can  meet  with  satisfaction. 
Ideas  that  do  not  wholly  disagree. 
And  marriage  ?    Why,  it  is  a  very  sea 
Of  claims  and  calls,  of  taxing  and  exaction. 
Whose  bearing  upon  love  is  very  small. 
Here  mild  domestic  virtues  are  demanded, 
A  kitchen  soul,  inventive  and  neat  handed. 
Making  no  claims,  and  executing  all; — 
And  much  which  in  a  lady's  presence  I 
Can  hardly  with  decorum  specify. 

Falk. 
And  therefore — ? 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  461 

GULDSTAD. 

Hear  a  golden  counsel  then. 
Use  your  experience;    watch  your  fellow-men, 
How  every  loving  couple  struts  and  swaggers 
Like  millionaires  among  a  world  of  beggars. 
They  scamper  to  the  altar,  lad  and  lass, 
Thev  make  a  home  and,  drunk  with  exultation. 
Dwell  for  awhile  within  its  walls  of  glass. 
Then  comes  the  day  of  reckoning; — out,  alas, 
They're  bankrupt,  and  their  house  in  liquidation! 
Bankrupt  the  bloom  of  youth  on  woman's  brow. 
Bankrupt  the  flower  of  passion  in  her  breast. 
Bankrupt  the  husband's  battle-ardour  now. 
Bankrupt  each  spark  of  passion  he  possessed. 
Bankrupt  the  whole  estate,  below,  above, — 
And  yet  this  broken  pair  were  once  confessed 
A  first-class  house  in  all  the  wares  of  love' 


That  is  a  lie! 


Falk. 
[Vehemently.] 


GuLDSTAD. 

[Unm(yved.] 

Some  hours  ago  'twas  true 
However.    I  have  only  quoted  you; — 
In  these  same  words  you  challenged  to  the  field 
The  "caucus"  with  love's  name  upon  your  shield. 
Then  rang  repudiation  fast  and  thick 
From  all  directions,  as  from  you  at  present; 
Incredible,  I  know;   who  finds  it  pleasant 
To  hear  the  name  of  death  when  he  is  sick  ? 
Look  at  the  priest!     A  painter  and  composer 


462  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

Of  taste  and  spirit  when  he  wooed  his  bride; — 
What  wonder  if  the  man  became  a  proser 
When  she  was  snugly  settled  by  his  side  ? 
To  be  his  lady-love  she  was  most  fit; 
To  be  his  wife,  tho' — not  a  bit  of  it. 
And  then  the  clerk,  who  once  wrote  clever  numbers  ? 
No  sooner  was  the  gallant  plighted,  fixed, 
Than  all  his  rhymes  ran  counter  and  got  mixed; 
And  now  his  Muse  continuously  slumbers, 
Lullabied  by  the  law's  eternal  hum. 
Thus  you  see —  [Looks  at  Svanhild. 

Are  you  cold  ? 


Svanhild. 
[Softly.] 


No. 


Falk. 

[With  forced  humour.] 

Since  the  sum 
Works  out  a   minus   then  in  every  case 
And  never  shows  a   p  1  u  s, — why  should  you  be 
So  resolute  your  capital  to  place 
In  such  a  questionable  lottery  ? 
It  almost  looks  as  if  you  fancied  Fate 
Had  meant  you  for  a  bankrupt  from  your  birth? 

Guldstad. 
[Looks  at  him,  smiles,  and  shakes  his  head.] 

My  bold  young  Falk,  reserve  a  while  your  mirth. — 
There  are  two  ways  of  founding  an  estate. 
It  may  be  built  on  credit — drafts  long-dated 
On  pleasure  in  a  never-ending  bout, 
On  perpetuity  of  youth  unbated, 


ACTiii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  463 

And  permanent  postponement  of  the  gout. 

It  may  be  built  on  lips  of  rosy  red. 

On  sparkling  eyes  and  locks  of  flowing  gold, 

On  trust  these  glories  never  will  be  shed. 

Nor  the  dread  hour  of  periwigs  be  tolled. 

It  may  be  built  on  thoughts  that  glow  and  quiver, — 

Flowers  blowing  in  the  sandy  wilderness, — 

On  hearts  that,  to  the  end  of  life,  for  ever 

Throb  with  the  passion  of  the  primal  "yes." 

To  dealings  such  as  this  the  world  extends 

One  epithet:    'tis  known  as  "humbug,"  friends. 

Falk. 

I  see,  you  are  a  dangerous  attorney. 

You — well-to-do,  a  millionaire,  maybe; 

While  two  broad  backs  could  carry  in  one  journey 

All  that  beneath  the  sun  belongs  to  me. 

GULDSTAD. 

[Sharpli/.] 
What  do  you  mean  ? 

4 

Falk. 

That  is  not  hard  to  see. 
For  the  sound  way  of  building,  I  suppose, 
Is  just  with  cash — the  wonder-working  paint 
That  round  the  widow's  batten'd  forehead  throws 
The  aureole  of  a  young  adored  saint. 

GuLDSTAD. 

O  no,  'tis  something  better  that  I  meant. 
'Tis  the  still  flow  of  generous  esteem, 


464  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  m 

Which  no  less  honours  the  recipient 

Than  does  young  rapture's  giddy-whirling  dream. 

It  is  the  feeling  of  the  blessedness 

Of  service,  and  home  quiet,  and  tender  ties. 

The  joy  of  mutual  self-sacrifice, 

Of  keeping  watch  lest  any  stone  distress 

Her  footsteps  wheresoe'er  her  pathway  lies; 

It  is  the  healing  arm  of  a  true  friend. 

The  manly  muscle  that  no  burdens  bend. 

The  constancy  no  length  of  years  decays. 

The  arm  that  stoutly  lifts  and  firmly  stays. 

This,  Svanhild,  is  the  contribution  I 

Bring  to  your  fortune's  fabric:   now,  reply. 

[Svanhild  makes  an  effort  to  speak;   Guldstad 
lifts  his  hand  to  check  her. 

Consider  well  before  you  give  your  voice! 
With  clear  deliberation  make  your  choice. 

Falk. 
And  how  have  you  discovered — 

Guldstad. 

That  vou  love  her  ? 
That  in  your  eyes  'twas  easy  to  discover. 
Let  her  too  know  it.  [Presses  his  hand. 

Now  I  will  go  in. 
Let  the  jest  cease  and  earnest  work  begin; 
And  if  you  undertake  that  till  the  end 
You'll  be  to  her  no  less  a  faithful  friend, 
A  staff  to  lean  on,  and  a  help  in  need. 
Than  I  can  be  [Turning  to  Svanhild. 

Why,  good,  my  offer's  nought; 
Cancel  it  from  the  tables  of  your  thought. 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  465 

Then  it  is  I  who  triumph  in  very  deed; 
You're  happy,  and  for  nothing  else  I  fought. 

[To  Falk. 
And,  apropos — just  now  you  spoke  of  cash. 
Trust  me,  'tis  Httle  more  than  tinsell'd  trash. 
I  have  no  ties,  stand  perfectly  alone; 
To  you  I  will  make  over  all  I  own; 
My  daughter  she  shall  be,  and  you  my  son. 
You  know  I  have  a  business  by  the  border: 
There  I'll  retire,  you  set  your  home  in  order. 
And  we'll  foregather  when  a  year  is  gone. 
Now,  Falk,  you  know  me;   with  the  same  precision 
Observe  yourself:    the  voyage  down  life's  stream. 
Remember,  is  no  pastime  and  no  dream. 
Now,  in  the  name  of  God — make  your  decision! 
[Goes  into  the  house.    Pause.    Falk  and  Svan- 
HiLD  look  shyly  at  each  other. 


You  are  so  pale. 


Falk. 

svanhild. 

And  you  so  silent. 

Falk. 

True. 


Svanhild. 
He  smote  us  hardest. 


Falk. 
[To  himself.] 

Stole  my  armour,  too. 


466  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

SVANHILD. 

What  blows  he  struck! 

Falk. 

He  knew  to  place  them  well. 

SVANHILD. 

All  seemed  to  go  to  pieces  where  they  fell. 

[Coming  nearer  to  him. 
How  rich  in  one  another's  wealth  before 
We  were,  when  all  had  left  us  in  despite, 
And  Thought  rose  upward  like  the  echoing  roar 
Of  breakers  in  the  silence  of  the  night. 
With  exultation  then  we  faced  the  fray, 
And  confidence  that  Love  is  lord  of  death; — 
He  came  with  worldly  cunning,  stole  our  faith. 
Sowed  doubt, — and  all  the  glory  pass'd  away! 

Falk. 

[With  wild  veJiemence.] 

Tear,  tear  it  from  thy  memory!    All  his  talk 
Was  true  for  others,  but  for  us  a  lie! 

SVANHILD. 

[Sloioly  shaking  her  head.] 

The  golden  grain,  hail-stricken  on  its  stalk. 
Will  never  more  wave  wanton  to  the  sky. 

Falk. 
[With  an  outburst  of  anguish.] 
Yes,  we  two,  Svanhild — ! 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  467 

SVANHILD. 

Hence  with  hopes  that  snare! 
If  you  sow  falsehood,  you  must  reap  despair. 
For  others  true,  you  say  ?    And  do  you  doubt 
That  each  of  them,  like  us,  is  sure,  alike, 
That  he's  the  man  the  lightning  will  not  strike. 
And  no  avenging  thunder  will  find  out, 
Whom  the  blue  storm-cloud,  scudding  up  the  sky 
On  wings  of  tempest,  never  can  come  nigh  ? 

Falk. 

The  others  split  their  souls  on  scattered  ends: 
Thy  single  love  my  being  comprehends. 
They're  hoarse  with  yelling  in  life's  Babel  din: 
I  in  this  quiet  shelter  fold  thee  in. 

SVANHILD. 

But  if  love,  notwithstanding,  should  decay, 
— Love  being  Happiness's  single  stay — 
Could  you  avert,  then,  Happiness's  fall  ? 

Falk. 
No,  my  love's  ruin  were  the  wreck  of  all. 

Svanhild. 

And  can  you  promise  me  before  the  Lord 
That  it  will  last,  not  drooping  like  the  flower. 
But  smell  as  sweet  as  now  till  life's  last  hour? 

Falk. 
[After  a  short  pause.] 
It  will  last  long. 


468  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

SVANHILD. 

[With  anguish.] 

"Long!"  "Long!" — Poor  starveling  word! 
Can  "long"  give  any  comfort  in  Love's  need? 
It  is  her  death-doom,  blight  upon  her  seed. 
"My  faith  is,  Love  will  never  pass  away" — 
That   song  must  cease,  and  in  its  stead  be  heard: 
"My  faith  is,  that  I  loved  you  yesterday!" 

[As  wplifted  by  inspiration. 
No,  no,  not  thus  our  day  of  bliss  shall  wane, 
Flag  drearily  to  west  in  clouds  and  rain; — 
But  at  high  noontide,  when  it  is  most  bright, 
Plunge  sudden,  like  a  meteor,  into  night! 

Falk. 
[In  anguish.] 
What  would  you,  Svanhild  ? 

SVANHILD. 

We  are  of  the  Spring; 
No  Autumn  shall  come  after,  when  the  bird 
Of  music  in  thy  breast  shall  not  be  heard, 
And  long  not  thither  where  it  first  took  wing. 
Nor  ever  Winter  shall  his  snowy  shroud 
Lay  on  the  clay-cold  body  of  our  bliss; — 
This  Love  of  ours,  ardent  and  glad  and  proud. 
Pure  of  disease's  taint  and  age's  cloud, 
Shall  die  the  young  and  glorious  thing  it  is! 

Falk. 

[In  deep  pain.] 

And  far  from  thee — what  would  be  left  of  life  ? 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  469 

SVANHILD. 

And  near  me  what  were  left — if  Love  depart? 

Falk. 
A  home ! 

SVANHILD. 

Where  Joy  would  gasp  in  mortal  strife. 

[Firmly. 
It  was  not  given  to  me  to  be  your  wife. 
That  is  the  clear  conviction  of  my  heart! 
In  courtship's  merry  pastime  I  can  lead. 
But  not  sustain  your  spirit  in  its  need. 

[Nearer  and  with  gathering  fire. 
Now  we  have  revell'd  out  a  feast  of  spring; 
No  thought  of  slumber's  sluggard  couch  come  nigh! 
Let  Joy  amid  delirious  song  make  wing 
And  flock  with  choirs  of  cherubim  on  high. 
And  tho'  the  vessel  of  our  fate  capsize, 
One  plank  yet  breasts  the  waters,  strong  to  save; — 
The  fearless  swimmer  reaches  Paradise! 
Let  Joy  go  down  into  his  watery  grave; 
Our  Love  shall  yet  in  triumph,  by  God's  hand. 
Be  borne  from  out  the  wreckage  safe  to  land ! 

Falk. 

O,  I  divine  thee!     But — to  sever  thus! 

Now,  when  the  portals  of  the  world  stand  wide, — 

When  the  blue  spring  is  bending  over  us, 

On  the  same  day  that  plighted  thee  my  bride! 

SVANHILD. 

Just  therefore  must  we  part.    Our  joy's  torch  fire 
Will  from  this  moment  wane  till  it  expire! 


470  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

And  when  at  last  our  worldly  days  are  spent, 

And  face  to  face  with  our  great  Judge  we  stand, 

And,  as  a  righteous  God,  he  shall  demand 

Of  us  the  earthly  treasure  that  he  lent — 

Then,  Falk,  we  cry — past  power  of  Grace  to  save — 

"O  Lord,  we  lost  it  going  to  the  grave!" 

Falk. 
[With  strong  resolve.] 

Pluck  off  the  ring ! 

SVANHILD. 

[Withjire.] 
Wilt  thou  ? 

Falk. 

Now  I  divine! 
Thus  and  no  otherwise  canst  thou  be  mine! 
As  the  grave  opens  into  life's  Dawn-fire, 
So  Love  with  Life  may  not  espoused  be 
Till,  loosed  from  longing  and  from  wild  desire, 
It  soars  into  the  heaven  of  memory! 
Pluck  off  the  ring,  Svanhild! 

SVANHILD. 

[In  rapture.] 

My  task  is  done! 
Now  I  have  filled  thy  soul  with  song  and  sun. 
Forth!     Now  thou  soarest  on  triumphant  wings, — 
Forth!    Now  thy  Svanhild  is  the  swan  that  sings! 
[  Takes  off  the  ring  and  presses  a  kiss  upon  it. 
To  the  abysmal  ooze  of  ocean  bed 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  471 

Descend,  my  dream! — I  fling  thee  in  its  stead! 

[Goes  a  few  steps  back,  throws  tlie  ring  into  the 
fjord,  and  approacJies  Falk  with  a  transfig- 
ured expression. 

Now  for  this  earthly  life  I  have  foregone  thee, — 
But  for  the  life  eternal  I  have  won  thee! 

Falk. 
[Firmly.] 

And  now  to  the  day's  duties,  each,  alone. 

Our  paths  no  more  will  mingle.    Each  must  wage 

His  warfare  single-handed,  without  moan. 

We  caught  the  fevered  frenzy  of  the  age. 

Fain  without  fighting  to  secure  the  spoil. 

Win  Sabbath  ea-se,  and  shirk  the  six  days'  toil, 

Tho'  we  are  called  to  strive  and  to  forego. 


■'O^ 


SVANHILD. 

But  not  in  sickness. 

Falk. 

No, — made  strong  by  truth. 
Our  heads  no  penal  flood  will  overflow; 
This  never-dying  memory  of  our  youth 
Shall  gleam  against  the  cloud-wrack  like  the  bow 
Of  promise  flaming  in  its  colours  seven, — 
Sign  that  we  are  in  harmony  with  heaven. 
That  gleam  your  quiet  duties  shall  make  bright — 

SVANHILD. 

And  speed  the  poet  in  his  upward  flight! 


472  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

Falk. 

The  poet,  yes;   for  poets  all  men  are 
Who  see,  thro'  all  their  labours,  mean  or  great, 
In  pulpit  or  in  schoolroom,  church  or  state. 
The  Ideal's  lone  beacon-splendour  flame  afar. 
Yes,  upward  is  my  flight;   the  winged  steed 
Is  saddled;   I  am  strong  for  noble  deed. 
And  now  farewell! 

SVANHILD. 

Farewell ! 

Falk. 

[Einbracing  her.] 

One  kiss! 

SVANHILD. 

The  last! 
[Tears  herself  free. 
Now  I  can  lose  thee  gladly  till  life's  past! 

Falk. 

Tho'  quenched  were  all  the  light  of  earth  and  sky, — 
The  thought  of  light  is  God,  and  cannot  die. 

SVANHILD. 

[Withdraiving  towards  the  hackground.] 
Farewell!  [Goes  further. 

Falk. 

Farewell — gladly  I  cry  again — 

[Waves  his  hat. 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  473 

Hurrah  for  love,  God's  glorious  gift  to  men! 

[TJic  door  opens.  Falk  wifhdrmcs  to  tJie  rigJit; 
the  younger  guests  come  out  with  merry 
laughter. 

The  Youxg  Girls. 
A  lawn  dance! 

A  Young  Girl. 
Dancing's  life! 

Another. 

A  garland  spread 

With  dewy  blossoms  fresh  on  every  head! 

Several. 
Yes,  to  the  dance,  the  dance ! 

All. 

And  ne'er  to  bed ! 

[Stiver  comes  out  u-ith  Strawman  arm  in  arm. 
]Mrs.  Strawman  a7id  the  children  follow. 

Stiver. 
Yes,  vou  and  I  henceforward  are  fast  friends. 

Strawjl^n. 
Allied  in  battle  for  our  common  ends. 

Stiver. 
When  the  twin  forces  of  the  State  agree — 

Straw^^lvn. 
They  add  to  all  men's — 


474  LO\TE'S   COMEDY  [act  in 

Stiver. 
I  Hastily.] 

Gains! 

Strawman. 

And  gaiety. 

[Mrs.  Halm,  Lind,  Anna,  Guldstad,  and 
Miss  Jay,  with  the  other  guests,  come  out. 
All  eyes  are  turned  upon  Falk  and  Svanhild. 
General  amazement  when  they  are  seen  stand- 
ing apart. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Among  the  Aunts,  clasping  her  hands.] 
What!    Am  I  awake  or  dreaming,  pray.'' 

Lind. 

[Who  has  noticed  nothing.] 

I  have  a  brother's  compliments  to  pay. 

[He,  with  the  other  guests,  approaches  Falk,  hut 

starts  involuntarily  and  steps  back  on  looking 

at  him. 
What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?    You're  a  Janus 
With  double  face! 

Falk. 

[Smiling.] 

I  cry,  like  old  Montanus,^ 
The  earth  is  flat.  Messieurs; — my  optics  lied; 
Flat  as  a  pancake — are  you  satisfied  ? 

[Goes  quickly  out  to  the  right. 
*  See  Notes,  page  484. 


ACT  III] 

LOVE'S   COMEDY 

Miss  Jay. 

Refused ! 

The  Aunts. 

Refused ! 

475 


Mrs.  Halm. 

Hush,  ladies,  if  you  please! 
[Goes  across  to  Svanhild. 

Mbs.  Strawman. 
[To  Strawman.] 
Fancy,  refused! 

Strawman. 
It  cannot  be! 

Miss  Jay. 

It  is! 

The  Ladies. 

[From  mouth  to  moufJi.] 

Refused!     Refused!     Refused! 

[They  gatJier  in  little  groups  about  the  garden. 

Stiver. 
[Dumfounded.] 

H  e    courting  ?     How  ? 

Strawman. 

Yes,  think!    He  laugh'd  at  us,  ha,  ha— but  now— 
[Theij  gaze  at  each  other  speechless. 


476  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

Anna. 

[To  LiND.] 

That's  good!    He  was  too  horrid,  to  be  sure! 

LiND. 

[Embracing  her.] 

Hurrah,  now  thou  art  mine,  entire  and  whole. 
*  [They  go  outside  into  the  garden. 

GULDSTAD. 

[Looking  back  towards  Svanhild.] 

Something  is  shattered  in  a  certain  soul; 
But  what  is  yet  alive  in  it  I'll  cure. 

Strawman. 

[Recovering  himself  and  embracing  Stiver.] 

Now  then,  you  can  be  very  well  contented 
To  have  your  dear  Jiancee  for  a  spouse. 

Stiver. 

And  you  complacently  can  see  your  house 
With  little  Strawmans  every  year  augmented. 

Strawman. 

[Rubbing  his  hands  luith  satisfaction  and  looking  after 

Falk.] 

Insolent  fellow!     Well,  it  served  him  right; — 
Would  all  these  knowing  knaves  were  in  his  plight  T 

[They  go  across  in  conversation;    Mrs.  Halm 
approaches  vrith  Svanhild, 


ACT  ml  LOVE'S   COMEDY  477 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[Aside,  eagerly.] 
And  nothing  binds  you  ? 

SVANHILD. 

Nothing. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Good,  you  know 
A  daughter's  duty — 

SVANHILD. 

Guide  me,  I  obey. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Thanks,  child.  [Pointing  to  Guldstad. 

He  is  a  rich  and  comme  ilfaut 
Parti;   and  since  there's  nothing  in  the  way — 

SVANHILD. 

Yes,  there  is  one  condition  I  require! — 
To  leave  this  place. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Precisely  his  desire. 

Svanhild. 
And  time — 

Mrs.  Halm. 

How  long  ?     Bethink  you,  fortune's  calling! 


478  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

SVANHILD. 

[With  a  quiet  smile.] 

Only  a  little;    till  the  leaves  are  falling. 

[She  goes  towards  the  verandah;    Mrs.  Halm 
seeks  out  Guldstad. 

Strawman. 
[Among  the  guests.] 

One  lesson,  friends,  we  learn  from  this  example! 
Tho'  Doubt's  beleaguering  forces  hem  us  in, 
Yet  Truth  upon  the  Serpent's  head  shall  trample, 
The  cause  of  Love  shall  win — 

Guests. 

Yes,  Love  shall  win! 
[They  embrace  and  hiss,  pair  by  pair.     Outside 
to  the  left  are  heard  song  and  laughter. 

Miss  Jay. 
What  can  this  mean  ? 

Anna. 

The  students! 

LiND. 

The  quartette, 
Bound  for  the  mountains; — and  I  quite  forgot 
To  tell  them— 

[The  Students  come  in  to  tlie  left  and  remain 
standing  at  tJie  entrance. 

A  Student. 

[To  LiND.] 

Here  we  are  upon  the  spot! 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  479 

Mrs.  Halm, 

It's  Lind  you  seek,  then  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

That's  unfortunate. 
He's  just  engaged — 

An  Aunt. 


And  so,  you  may  be  sure, 

ling  on  a 

The  Students. 


He  cannot  think  of  going  on  a  tour. 


Engaged ! 

All  the  Students. 
Congratulations ! 

Lind. 
[To  his  comrades.] 

Thanks,  my  friends! 

The  Student. 
[To  his  comrades.] 

There  goes  our  whole  fish-kettle  in  the  fire! 
Our  tenor  lost!    No  possible  amends! 

Falk. 

[Coming  from  the  right,  in  sum,mer  suit,  with  student* s 
cap,  knapsack  and  stick.] 

I'll  sing  the  tenor  in  young  Norway's  choir! 

The  Students. 
You,  Falk!  hurrah! 


480  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

Falk. 

Forth  to  the  mountains,  come! 
As  the  bee  hurries  from  her  winter  home! 
A  twofold  music  in  my  breast  I  bear, 
A  cither  with  diversely  sounding  strings, 
One  for  life's  joy,  a  treble  loud  and  clear, 
And  one  deep  note  that  quivers  as  it  sings. 

[To  individuals  among  the  Students. 
You  have  the  palette.? — You  the  note-book.'^  Good, 
Swarm  then,  my  bees,  into  the  leafy  wood, 
Till  at  nightfall  with  pollen-laden  thigh. 
Home  to  our  mighty  mother-queen  we  fly! 

[Turnirig  to  the  company,  while  the  Students 
depart  and  the   Chorus  of  the   First  Act  is 
faintly  heard  outside. 
Forgive  me  my  offences  great  and  small, 
I  resent  nothing; —  [Softly, 

but  remember  all. 

Strawman. 

[Beaming  tvith  happiness  i\ 

Now  fortune's  garden  once  again  is  green! 
My  wife  has  hopes, — a  sweet  presentiment — 

[Draws  him  whispering  apart. 
She  lately  whispered  of  a  glad  event — 

[Inaudible  words  intervene. 
If  all  goes  well  ...  at  Michaelmas  .  .  .  thirteen! 

Stiver. 

\With  Miss   Jay  on  his  arm,  turning  to  Falk,  smiles 
triumphantly,  and  says,  pointing  to  Strawman:] 

I'm  going  to  start  a  household,  flush  of  pelf! 


ACT  III]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  481 

Miss  Jay. 

[With  an  ironical  courtesy.] 
I  shall  put  on  my  wedding-ring  next  Yule. 

Anna. 
[Similarly,  as  she  takes  Lind's  arin.\ 
My  Lind  will  stay,  the  Church  can  mind  itself — 

LiND. 

[Hiding  his  embarrassment.] 
And  seek  an  opening  in  a  ladies'  school. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
I  cultivate  my  Anna's  capabilities — 

GULDSTAD. 

[Gravely.] 

An  unromantic  poem  I  mean  to  make 
Of  one  who  only  lives  for  duty's  sake. 

Falk. 

[With  a  smile  to  tJie  whole  company.] 

I  go  to  scale  the  Future's  possibilities! 
Farewell!  [So/Y/y  ^o  Svanhild. 

God  bless  thee,  bride  of  my  life's  dawn, 
Where'er  I  be,  to  nobler  deed  thou'lt  wake  me. 

[Waves  his  hat  and  follows  the  Students. 

SVANHILD. 

[Looks  after  him  a  moment,  then  says,  softly  hut  firmly:] 
Now  over  is  my  life,  by  lea  and  lawn, 


482  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  iii 

The  leaves  are  falling; — now  the  world  may  take  me, 
[At  this  moment  the  piano  strikes  up  a  dance, 
and  champagne  corks  explode  in  the  back- 
ground. The  gentlemen  hurry  to  and  fro 
with  their  ladies  on  their  arms.  Guldstad 
approaches  Svanhild  and  hows:  she  starts 
momentarily,  then  collects  herself  and  gives 
him,  her  hand.  Mrs.  Halm  and  her  family, 
who  have  watched  the  scene  in  suspense, 
throng  about  them  with  expressions  of  rap- 
ture, which  are  overpowered  by  the  music  and 
the  merriment  of  the  dancers  in  the  garden. 

[But  from  the  country  the  folloiving  chorus  rings 
loud  and  defiant  through  the  dance  music: 

Chorus  of  Falk  and  the  Students. 

And  what  if  I  shattered  my  roaming  bark. 
It  was  passing  sweet  to  be  roaming! 

Most  of  the  Company. 
Hurrah! 

[Dance  and  merriment;  the  curtain  falls. 


NOTES 

P,  324.  William  Russcl.  An  original  historic  tragedy,  founded 
upon  the  career  of  the  ill-fated  Lord  William  Russell,  by  An- 
dreas Munch,  cousin  of  the  historian  P.  A.  Munch.  It  was 
produced  at  Christiania  in  1857,  the  year  of  Ibsen's  return  from 
Bergen,  and  reviewed  by  him  in  the  lUustreret  Nyhedshlad  for 
that  year,  Nos.  51  and  52.  Professor  Johan  Storm  of  Chris- 
tiania, to  whose  kindness  I  owe  these  particulars,  adds  that  "it 
is  rather  a  fine  play  and  created  a  certain  sensation  in  its  time; 
but  Munch  is  forgotten." 

P.  326.  A  gray  old  stager.  Ibsen's  friend  P.  Botten-Hansen, 
author  of  the  play  Hyldrebryllupet. 

P.  367.  A  Svanhild,  like  the  old.  In  the  tale  of  theVolsungs 
Svanhild  was  the  daughter  of  Sigurd  and  Gudrun, — the  Siegfried 
and  Kriemhild  of  the  Nihehmgenlied.  The  fierce  king  Jor- 
munrek,  hearing  of  her  matchless  beauty,  sends  his  son  Randwer 
to  woo  her  in  his  name.  Randwer  is,  however,  induced  to  woo 
her  in  his  own,  and  the  girl  approves.  Jormunrek  thereupon 
causes  Randwer  to  be  arrested  and  hanged,  and  meeting  with 
Svanhild,  as  he  and  his  men  ride  home  from  the  hunt,  tramples 
her  to  death  under  their  horses'  hoofs.  Gudrun  incites  her  sons 
Sorli  and  Hamdir  to  avenge  their  sister;  they  boldly  enter 
Jormunrek's  hall,  and  succeed  in  cutting  off  his  hands  and  feet, 
but  are  themselves  slain  by  his  men.  This  last  dramatic  episode 
is  told  in  the  Eddie  Hamthi^mol. 

P.  405.  In  the  remotest  east  there  grows  a  plant.  The  germ  of 
the  famous  tea-simile  is  due  to  Fru  Collett's  romance.  The 
OfjiciaVs  Davghters.  But  she  exploits  the  idea  only  under  a 
single  and  obvious  aspect,  viz.,  the  comparison  of  the  tender 
bloom  of  love  with  the  precious  firstling  blade  which  brews  the 
quintessential  tea  for  the  Chinese  emperor's  table;  what  the 
world  calls  love  being,  like  what  it  calls  tea,  a  coarse  and 
flavourless  aftercrop.  Ibsen  has,  it  will  be  seen,  given  a 
number  of  ingenious  developments  to  the  analogy.     I    know 

483 


484  NOTES 

Fru  Collett's  work  only  through  the  accounts  of  it  given  by 
Brandes  and  Jaeger. 

P.  448.  Another  Burns.  In  the  original:  Dolen  {The  Dales- 
man), that  is  A.  O.  Vinje,  Ibsen's  friend  and  literary  comrade, 
editor  of  the  journal  so-called  and  hence  known  familiarly  by 
its  name.     See  the  Introduction. 

P.  474.  Like  Old  Montanus.  The  hero  of  Holberg's  comedy 
Erasmvs  Mountanvs,  who  returns  from  foreign  travel  to  his  native 
parish  with  the  discovery  that  the  world  is  not  flat.  Public 
indignation  is  aroused,  and  Montanus  finds  it  expedient  to 
announce  that  his  eyes  had  deceived  him,  that  "  the  world  is  flat, 
gentlemen." 


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